


The Bravest Thing 2.0

by livvels1012



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Cults, David Acting as Max's Parental Figure | Dadvid (Camp Camp), Domestic Violence, Drug Use, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Murder, long fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:06:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 89,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29059473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livvels1012/pseuds/livvels1012
Summary: An edited and improved (hopefully) version of my Bridge Over Troubled Water fic combined with its sequel series, it features the events leading up to David adopting Max legally and all the danger that comes with angering his birth father who remains suspiciously obsessed with Max for sinister motives. It's all kicked off when a small injury becomes life threatening to Max and no one steps in to look after him except for his counselors, who reach their limit with his absentee parents.Includes lots of MomGwen, OC's to fill in the gaps in backstories and a thorough dashing of the paranormal and angst! And Max gets a puppy.
Relationships: David/Gwen (Camp Camp)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! I'm slowly making a comeback. Despite hating my new job with a passion and having to take a long break from dungeon mastering, I don't plan to give up the one hobby that still brings joy, aka this fic! I'll be posting chapters as they're spruced up and resume posting new chapters after then. The OG work will be deleted as the new work is posted and rereads are recommended but you'll probably be okay without them.

_ I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay. It’s not even that bad. Barely even hurts-- _

“Mother  _ fucker _ !” Max interrupted his own inner mantra as he finally bit the bullet and yanked the shard out of his heel, with zero regard for Nikki and Neil screaming behind him in horror to just leave it alone. His hand shook with a little trickle of adrenaline, the glass piece covered in red for about half an inch and he realized it was much deeper in there than he thought. “Stop,” he said warningly as Nikki tried to examine it closer and Neil had covered his eyes. The sole of his foot was throbbing red-hot, the skin around the puncture disappearing under a thick trickle of crimson.

“Max, are you okay?” Neil began to peek through his fingers, but Max just tossed the shard near the rest of the shattered beaker. Rough housing around Neil’s ‘equipment’ was ill advised in general, and it was only a matter of time before it ended in disaster. Max just thought it would be funnier when it did. “It’s fine,” he insisted, sucking a stiff breath through his teeth. “It’s just gonna bleed a lot for a few seconds.” Hands, feet, faces. They were gushers even when superficial, or so he had read somewhere.

He started to wobble up to his feet and growled as Nikki hauled him up the rest of the way by his arm. “I gotcha!” 

He swatted her away instinctively, balancing on one foot. The second he put it down on the ground, it felt like stepping on that shard all over again and he scrunched up his face to try and hide the anguish. “See?” he said, his voice smaller and higher than he would have liked. He was having trouble keeping upright, and he wasn’t able to turn at the sound of rapidly approaching boots behind him. The sound of the table being overturned definitely got some attention, and he subconsciously rolled his eyes as he heard Gwen demand, “What the hell did you guys do now?”

“We broke everything!” Nikki exclaimed. “That was the intentional part.”

Max saw them both in his peripheral, first Gwen moving to lift the table up and shoo the others away and then Nikki trying to get her attention again. “Get out of here, there’s glass everywhere.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Max said, shakily reaching down to pick up his shoe. As Gwen turned to retort him, Neil took his chance to cut in and pointed straight at him, “Max is hurt.”

  
  
Gwen blinked for a second and crossed her arms, like she didn’t believe it at first. She casted a side look at him and Max tried to hide his hurt foot behind the other to disguise the absence of his shoe. “Is that true?” she asked, an irritating, barely present note of concern in her voice.

“Yeah? I was just gonna rinse it and get a band aid, it’s not that bad.”

“Show me where.”

  
  
“I’m fine, I don’t need your help.”

  
  
“It is literally my job, now show me.” Gwen stepped forward and Max made the mistake of trying to step away from her but he showed his cards when he did. She took one look at his sock, which was red all the way down to the toes now and she might have paled a little. “Go see David.”

“No way! I’d rather step on glass again.”

“Max, you need first aid. Don’t make me carry you. You know I can.” Gwen stepped forward, threateningly holding her hands out towards him and he stooped down, grabbed his shoe and raised it up to demonstrate his intention to throw it at her head. “Don’t you dare, bitch!” he snarled, taking a few more steps back before his brain told his knee to give out and relieve pressure. So down he went, the throb intensifying with the pain. He hissed quiet curses under his breath as he gingerly twisted his ankle to look at the wound, now packed tightly with dirt.

Gwen saw her chance. In one fell swoop, she plucked him off the ground by his under arms and spun him quickly to plant an arm around his middle, like he was a sack of laundry. Clever, keeping him facing away so he couldn’t really attack. Max kicked sharply backwards with his heel, missing her shin and he snarled, “I will  _ murder  _ you if you don’t put me down!”

But she was bigger and stronger, and tightened her arm to limit his thrashing, dangling him like a disgruntled cat. He was left just making a string of feral noises and curses, trying to wriggle free as Nikki and Neil snickered at the sight of Gwen hauling him off helplessly.  _ There will be recompense for this _ .

He was still trying to bend his head down far enough to bite her (harder than it looked) when they got to the door and she had to set him down to open it. Max made a mad dash past her but he was yanked back with a hand firmly gripping the collar of his shirt, causing him to make an undignified  _ hrk!  _ sound. Gwen manhandled him back onto the front step, growling, “If you’d rather, I can just cut your foot off now and save you the trouble.”

“Is that a genuine offer?” he asked. He had better things to do than let David mother-hen him so he could feel like he was actually halfway decent at his job, dolling out cartoonish band aids and lollipops.

  
  
_ Well, if there’s candy in it for me...maybe _ .

  
  
So, he gave up his resistance as Gwen pushed him through the door and sent him on his way, guarding the exit like a hound at the gates of hell. 

Even though the wound was pretty much sealed up with dirt and fabric, it still left a dot of red on the wood as he took two limping steps inside. David looked up from his desk with that stupid clown grin, his eyes lighting up just at the presence of him. The boy avoided David’s gaze, still uneasy with how dang happy he always was to have him around. “Hey, buddy! What can I do you for, Max?” 

  
  
“I just need a bandaid or something. Maybe a wipe.” Max immediately tried to downplay the state of himself, gesturing down to his missing shoe. “I stepped on some glass--” 

  
  
The counselor instantly hopped up from his chair and rushed over, taking him by the arms and leaning down to his height. “Aw, fuck,” he muttered. Here we go .

“Really? How bad is it?! Let me see,” David prattled on, ushering him over to his desk chair to get him off his feet so he could go get the first aid kit. “And on a Saturday, too, you poor little--”

Max planted his hand on David’s forehead and gave him the best shove he could manage, hoping to stem any more expressions of concern. “Stop  _ right  _ there, I’m not here so you can baby me. Save it for Spacekid.”

And yet, his counselor was unfazed. He still held that patient little smile and just took a minute to fix the front of his hair as he spoke, “You can’t blame me for being worried, glass cuts can hurt something awful.” 

“How would you know?”

“Have you met me, Max? I’m a little accident prone,” David chuckled, gesturing to the scar on the back of his hand and scraped knees, and the general long history that was David getting the shit kicked out of him on the regular. Max wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he had a point. And it  _ did  _ hurt, as much as he wanted to think he was soldiering through it. “Come on, I’ll get it taken care of quickly and you’ll be out of here before you know it.” David reassured him, clicking open the box and setting the supplies he needed on the desk. 

  
  
Max gingerly leaned back as David took his ankle in his hands to get a better look at the damage, carefully peeling his sock off. Max dug his fingers into the chair seat and clenched his teeth as the sticky cotton was peeled off of the cut. 

Max winced, pressing his lips together in a thin line as David gently felt around it with a focused expression. “Well, at least there’s no pieces stuck in there.” he said with a smile, patting Max’s foot. “This part is going to suck, though. But you’re one tough cookie, I’m sure it’ll be no biggie for you.”

_ It better not be.  _ “Don’t patronize me, David.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He said, picking up a white bottle and some cotton balls. The antiseptic smell made Max wrinkle his nose and he clenched his hands around the frayed cuffs of his sleeves as David carefully but quickly began to clean his foot up. It felt cold, and he was just getting all the dirt and blood smears off. Then he took a new one and actually began to clean the cut. The second the alcohol touched the wound, Max tried to yank his foot back. “That burns, asshole!” 

  
  
But his ankle didn’t budge in David’s grip, who just finished the task regardless of the squirming and yelling kid. “I know,” he said patiently, letting it go once it was done to pick up another tube of anti bacterial ointment. He even put on one of the sanitary gloves to put the cream on the cut, then bandaged it lightly but securely. “There! Not so bad, right?”

“I guess,” Max mumbled, flexing his foot. It hurt, but it was throbbing less now and he wasn’t sure what he expected in the first place. David was right; quick, easy and didn’t hurt nearly as much as he thought it would, now that it was over. “Can I go?”

“Let me get you a clean sock and stuff first. Better stay off your feet for a bit while it closes up, okay?” David stood up and went over to the Lost and Found to see if there was a pair of shoes in Max’s size. 

“I will if I get to use your T.V and you get the fuck out.”

“Deal.”

* * *

After a day of vegging out in David’s arm chair and spending his Saturday properly alone for once, Max was ready to just crash. He was a thousand miles outside of his comfort zone, being fussed over and catered to by a David whose David-ness was cranked up to eleven. He had reminded Max five times alone to come back the next day so he could check his bandage and that didn’t include the many incidents of David poking his head into the door to ask if he was okay.  _ If it hurts, I can get you some Tylenol or something? Maybe a cold compress? Whatever you need, kiddo. _

While slouching in the comfort of the counselor’s cabin, Max recalled a distant memory from the foggy recesses of his littlest years. He’d been...seven? Maybe littler? He didn’t remember any details leading up to how it happened, but somehow, he’d banged up his bottom lip and chin into a scraped up, bloody mess. Max assumed he had fallen down the stairs or tripped playing outside or maybe even gotten into a tumble with a classmate. There was no picking out the right scene from his foggy memories for the life of him, but it didn’t matter anyway.

  
  
He had meandered into the kitchen after his mother, sniffling with teary eyes in search of some comfort. She had remained deaf to his attempts to get her attention, as she was completely checked out at the table with her head hung low and eyes unfocused. That was her usual M.O. He tugged at her skirt and had to nudge her awake, crying big tears by then because it hurt more to be ignored than to be bleeding and the ‘Mom,’ he whimpered was far too loud for her liking. 

  
  
She just grabbed a less than pristine kitchen towel, soaked it in water and shoved it into his hands and steered him on his way to his room by the back of his neck, warning him sharply to be quiet and not come back out. There was no making her message clearer;  _ stop being a nuisance.  _ Max spent the rest of the night holding it to his face, alone except for Mr. Honeynuts at his side. 

Any hope of it being different fizzled out after that. If his own mom couldn’t be bothered to help him, why try with teachers? Or the father that acted like he didn’t exist, the neighbors who pointedly avoided ever encountering them like they were carrying the plague or overworked, underpaid  _ camp counselors? _

But David had dropped everything in a heartbeat to fawn over him, not caring even a little that it interrupted his day and took time and effort to deal with. He just cared because...that was David, that was what he did. Max doubted it occurred to him to be irritated. And he resented that there was a teeny, tiny, itty bitty  _ barely existent _ part of him that was happy for it. 

  
  
_ I don’t need my booboos kissed , I’m not seven anymore, _ he thought as he slid down out of the chair.  _ Don’t get dependent, he’s gone in two months and you’re on your own again, so  _ **_suck. it. up_ ** . 

  
  
Max tugged on his sock and shoes as carefully as he could, and left the T.V running as he peeked out of the cabin. Seeing no counselors, he made the trek back to his tent and scurried in before anyone had the chance to confront him. Once safely back in the privacy of his domain, Max kicked off his shoes and wrestled his hoodie off, stored them under his bed and crawled under the covers with a relieved huff.

He did find the energy to dangle his arm down the other side and felt around blindly until he found a plushy arm and dragged his bear under the blanket. Max buried his face against the worn, soft velveteen fabric and closed his eyes, accomplishing sleep before Neil got back and laid into him with questions.

The following day, Max went out of his way to avoid David. He usually caved in after a while to cause some mayhem when he got bored or he couldn’t feasibly get away, but today he was actually motivated to keep it up. This time, he was keeping his head down and skirting the less populated areas of camp to avoid encountering him or Gwen. 

  
  
One trip to the counselor’s cabin for treatment was plenty to last him forever. All he had to do was keep away until he got a chance to do it himself but for that to work, he needed to get into the medical supplies. Now, there was a chance that the Quartermaster might store some things he could repurpose and Max was willing to wager there wasn’t much in the Storeroom that could permanently scar him now. He would admit to being wrong after it was too late.

  
  
He’d found a spot behind the Mess Hall that seemed pretty good to hunker down, so Max sat down with a Nancy Drew book to wait for the Quartermaster to leave. It was just a waiting game n--

“Max!”

_ Fuck a duck _ . He huffed an angry breath through his nose and snapped his book shut as dread flooded his body. He slowly looked up to see David coming around the corner of the building with a perturbed expression. He even went as far as to cross his arms sternly.  _ Oh, wow, he’s really peeved, _ Max thought sarcastically.  _ Can I give him points for theatrics? _ “You were supposed to come to the counselors cabin for your foot.” he said, shaking his head in disappointment.

“It feels fine.” 

“It’s not going to stay that way if you don’t take care of it.”

“Then let me do it by myself! I know how,” Max insisted, standing up as David got closer and went down to one knee to match his level.

“Do you know first aid?” Max was certain that the counselor was trying to get him to admit he didn’t. “No, but I know how to disinfect shit and patch it up. I do it all the time and it’s not hard to figure out if you aren’t helpless...which I’m  _ not _ .” He retorted. He was caught and had to think on the spot and in doing so, gave too much away. All it took was a tiny piece.

So, there it was. That look he hated, the pity and sadness of someone who thought they understood his position. He turned away from David, hearing his heavy sigh of sympathy but he wouldn’t look at him. Max waited for the inane prodding, but his shoulders relaxed a little when it didn’t come. Instead, David made an offer in a gentle tone surely accompanied by a furrowed brow and concerned head tilt. “If you really would be happier doing it, you can with my supervision. That’s my only compromise, so you’d better take it.”

Max forced his book into his hoody pocket as he tried to find some reason to defy it but he had to admit that David was making an effort to meet him halfway. It was a great tactic to make him feel like a jerk if he didn’t do the same. _ Since when did he get the hang of guilt tripping? _

_  
_ _  
_ He only relented because he knew either Gwen would get involved or David would pester and pester until he broke. That’s what he told himself as he agreed. “You don’t touch me and I want double dessert for being a model fucking patient.”

“Okay, Max.”

David stood up and walked past him, giving him that stupid encouraging smile that was so much more subtle than his sunnily bright grin. Max narrowed his eyes distrustfully; it didn’t sit right with him to willingly go along with anything David did. It would just invite expectations of his cooperation in the future. 

  
But he was falling behind, so Max followed along behind David at a distance since he was unable to keep from limping a little. He noticed David was taking shorter steps than usual and Max wondered if it was to help him keep u. Max couldn’t make the effort to be ungrateful. The longer this day went on, the more run down he felt, his limbs heavy and sluggish and complaining to him to just go back to bed. End this day early.

Soon, they made it back to the counselor’s cabin and Max was relieved to be in that armchair again, as much as he loathed to admit it. It was old, but still comfy and he sank into it like it was giving him a corduroy hug, cozy and smelling like oud and cedar and it was a plus to get off his sore feet. He began to peel off the bandages as David brought over the first aid kit and took a peek at the situation. He only studied it for a few seconds before his smile wavered and he uttered a quiet, “Oh…”

_ Oh? What the hell is ‘oh?’ _

“What?” Max demanded and angled his foot in his hands to get a better view of it.  _ It’s a little red. That’s not a big deal. _

“It’s probably nothing, but just in case.” David knelt down and passed him the alcohol and cotton so he could start the process. Max was just unscrewing the cap on the bottle when he got a thermometer stuck in his face. He lurched back instinctively to reclaim his personal bubble, “Uh,  **no** .”

“Don’t argue with me in this, kiddo, please.”

There was a serious, plaintive tone in David’s voice that took him aback and Max instantly decided he didn’t like it. So to keep David from talking to him with it again, he took the thermometer and stuck it in his mouth, but jerked away with David tried to push the button for him. After a few seconds, it beeped and he handed it to David, who squinted at it and then smiled. “Ninety seven. Normal.”

“Whoopee,” Max muttered, starting to swab the disinfectant on his cut and follow the steps he had seen David do just the day before. As thick headed as he was, David did actually know how to tend an injury and Max had learned from watching him. He taped the bandage neatly in place and gestured pointedly to his work, “There, can I go now?”

David looked at it critically before he finally seemed to grant his seal of approval and began to pack up the kit. “No running or climbing.”

“I’m not Nikki. Do all kids look alike to you?”

“Still, just in case. If it starts bleeding or burns or gets puffy, you come right to me or Gwen.”

“Can I fucking  _ go?” _

They had a stare down for a solid minute, a quiet battle of wills between them. Just as Max began to think  _ wait , why am I waiting for his permission? I can just— _

“You can go.”

Max awkwardly slid out of the chair and limped slowly to the door, mindful to put as little pressure on his foot as possible and feeling David’s watchful eye the whole time. He stopped to say something before he went, unsure how to even begin. He wanted to say something nice, but he couldn’t even manage a simple thank you. How hard was Gee,  _ David, thanks for going out of your way to help me even though I’m a total fucking brat about it _ . He saw his counselor’s face softened as he started to say, “Do you need something el--?”

Max slammed the screen door and yanked his hood up, looking around for Nikki and Neil to join in whatever shenanigans they had for the day. He didn’t really get to participate; keeping up with Nikki was a nightmare, since he actually tried his best to follow his counselors advice. His friends initially asked him if he was okay and he shrugged it off, “David’s just found a way to be more irritating than ever. I’m fine.” and refused to engage with them about it anymore. He didn’t appreciate them trying to slow down and do boring shit like draw or playing four square so he could be included. He was content just to watch moodily and provide snarky commentary to everything they did. 

The next day, he woke up to a distinct throbbing in the offended area. Max dragged his hands up from where they were scrunched under his pillow and rubbed his eyes hard, mentally preparing for the process of throwing off his blanket. But once he did, he was able to untape the bandage and unravel it. It didn’t hurt until he actually peeled off the part that was stuck against the wound and Max sucked in a sharp breath, freezing his unstable hands in place. 

_ Okay. That hurts a lot. But that doesn’t mean you should freak out. Sometimes things hurt more when they start healing, you know that, so don’t...freak out...oh shit. _

“Neil,” Max shifted his legs over the side of his bed and watched the shape of his tent mate slumber away still with his nasally snores. Max promptly scooped up his pillow and hucked it across the cabin onto Neil. “Wake up!”

His shoulders flinched and Neil turned over sharply to glare at him over his shoulder as the pillow flopped off onto the ground, “What?! What’s your problem now?”

“Does this look bad to you?” 

Neil sat up and took a minute to also rub his eyes, shake off the sleepiness and then he got up and crossed over. Max felt awkward letting his friend lean down and look at his injury but this was as close as he would get to admitting he needed Neil’s...ugh. _Scientific_ _opinion_.

“Dude, that’s infected.” He said without hesitation.

“It can’t be, we’ve been cleaning it and stuff. And it’s been covered.”

“Well, some bacteria is more vicious than others and this camp is teeming with them all more likely than not. Just ask Gwen to take you into town, worst case scenario is that you’ll need an antibiotic for a week.” Neil picked up the pillow and threw it back onto its designated bed, considerably less annoyed. Maybe worried.  _ Not you, too.  _ “You’re a hundred percent sure it’s infected?”

“Why’d you wake me up and ask if you weren’t going to believe me?”

Max opened his mouth and raised a pointed finger to launch into an argument but faltered. And closed his mouth. Neil had a good point. “Alright...What happens if I don’t do that?”

“It gets worse,  _ obviously _ . That’s how people dropped like flies from papercuts up until a century ago.” Neil clambered back onto his bed and slid under the covers, facing Max this time. “Are you  _ seriously _ going back to bed?” Max asked. “You know David’s about to do his stupid fucking bugle.”

“Not for another three and a half hours.”

_ Three—?  _

Max followed Neil’s gesture to their coffee maker, the time blinking in faded greenish blue numbers on the interface. 4:32 AM. 

He gulped without meaning to. It hurt bad enough that it woke him from a dead sleep. And he knew enough that meant he probably couldn’t just ignore this problem into not existing anymore, not when his body was blatantly ringing red alert.

Neil pierced his long silence by sitting up on one elbow, “Max?”

He blinked out of his foggy stupor and scrambled to find his voice, “yeah?”

“Are you good? Do you want me to get David and Gwen? Or like...walk you there or something?”

“I don’t know…” was the best and lamest answer he could come up with. But next thing he knew, Neil was up again and getting his shoes on, then handing him his own. He waited with a mixture of awkward and patient concern while Max laced up his sneakers, his feet already cramped in them begin with since he had outgrown them since  _ before summer  _ so he left the offended foot barely tied to lessen his discomfort. 

  
  
It didn’t do much.

“Stop,” Max growled and pulled his arm away from Neil’s efforts to help him up. “I can go by myself, Neil.”

“Okay, you big baby.”

“ _ Wow.  _ Asshole.”

  
  
“You had your chance to stop me from walking you when I was putting my shoes on but you made me go through the effort so now I’m going. C’mon,” Neil held the tent flap open and kept a slow pace so Max had an easy time keeping up. He couldn’t tell what slowed him down so much; the actual injury inhibiting his ability to put his weight on his foot normally or his exhaustion or achy body. He must have been tossing and turning a lot or something to be feeling so sore all over.

They went straight to the counselors cabin together and once there, Max leaned heavily against the wall to catch his breath. “Neil,” he started, windedly gesturing to the door and his friend nodded, “gotcha, buddy,” and knocked loudly. Very loudly. He pulled Max away from the wall by his shoulders and set him upright so when a very cranky Gwen yanked the door open, he looked normal.  _ Thanks _ , he thought, genuinely grateful. Gwen had tucked her flannel over her pajamas and her hair was...interesting. “Nice look, Gwen, the alien chic is really flattering the trademark millennial dead eyes.”

  
  
“I’m going to pretend that it isn’t the time it is,” Gwen grumbled, “And try to be professional for once and assume there’s a very good reason you’re both here.”

  
  
“I’m up,” clatter. “Whoopsie.” more clattering. And a David with untied shoes arrived into frame shortly after, looking around all bright eyed and far too alert already. “Oh, hey, kids!”

  
  
“Neil thinks--” Max started and turned to gesture to his friend, who was already walking off. “ _ Hey!” _

_  
_   
“I’ve done my duty of care, it’s all you now.” Neil waved him off as he abandoned him on the counselor’s porch. 

  
  
Max fumed silently in place until Gwen snapped her fingers, “Hello? Neil thinks what?”

  
  
“He thinks my cut is infected.” Max finally returned his attention to them and instantly rolled his eyes as far back as he could at David’s facial expression of abject horror. “Why does he think that?” he asked quickly, his worry plain as the day that wasn’t there yet. 

  
  
“I dunno, I just got woken up because it hurts like hell and he looked at it and he said it’s infected, so now I’m here. Can you just put more of that stuff on it so I can go back to bed? And sleep in?”

  
  
He watched them exchange very annoying yet meaningful looks with each other, waiting until Gwen quietly invited him in and closed the door behind them. “Let David look, he’s better at this stuff.” she said, herding him to a chair and leaving to the bathroom to wash her second face off. 

David fussed over getting a temperature from him again, much to Max’s chagrin but he didn’t give him a hard time since it would just drag things out. Fortunately enough though, he didn’t have fever. His legs were sore, he was exhausted and didn’t want to keep getting up early to avoid the other campers seeing him getting fawned over a little cut. The faster it healed, the better. He gripped the chair arms tightly as David looked it over and he didn’t like that concerned frown one bit and when his counselor put a little pressure on it with his thumb, Max tried to yank his foot free on instinct with an intelligible sound of pain. “Stop!”

  
  
“Sorry, sorry, sorry, I just-- I just wanted to check how swollen it really is.” David apologized quickly, switching his fingers for a cold compress that helped alleviate some of the discomfort. Max’s eyes stung a little but nothing he couldn’t blink away. “Okay, Max, one to ten, how much do it hurt?”

  
  
“I don’t fucking know. A four?”

  
  
“Hm...okay. You can walk normal?”

  
  
Max faltered. “No...not really.”

  
  
“Are you thinking about it a lot?”

  
  
“Kind of. Why?”

  
  
“Just trying to give you a frame of reference,” David added the last part helpfully. “A four usually means you aren’t thinking about it much and you can still do most things normally. A seven is when your pain is keeping you from doing things and thinking about anything else and it’s constant.”

  
  
“Oh...I guess it’s more like a five, then.”

“Everyone’s five is different. I bet your five is most people’s seven,” Gwen came back with a Capri Moon in hand and offered it to him, which he took without complaint. He was pretty thirsty, anyway. 

David finished redressing it and then unscrewed the cap of a bottle before tapping out two little white pills into his palm. “Better take these with it.”

  
  
Max’s heart thumped. 

  
  
Even the idea of them sliding down his throat made him gag and Max choked the reflex to keep it from showing, as he numbly let David put them in his hand. “What are they?” he asked, his voice sounding like it was underwater to himself. 

  
  
“Just some kid’s anti-inflammatory. Hopefully it’s all you need to kick those germs out and you won’t end up on something stronger.” David packed up his supply of hodge podge medicines no doubt purchased out of pocket for the benefit of his campers and locked it away again in his desk where it couldn’t get into ill meaning hands...or hooks. “Down the hatch and you can go sleep as long as you like, but I’m going to check on you if it gets past eleven.”

  
  
“So not as long as he likes,” Gwen said.

  
  
“He has to eat breakfast, I didn’t say he couldn’t go back to bed after.”

  
  
“Eh. Good point.”

  
  
Max braced himself and kept his eyes wide open as he popped them into his mouth and drowned them in sugary juice. If he closed his eyes, he’d see something he didn’t care to remember, contents on a coffee table marred with wine stains in a room that was barely lit and smelled like ash and emptiness.  _ Just tylenol. They give this shit to babies _ .    
  


Max had emptied the pouch without thinking it and he caught Gwen giving him a weird look for his silent display of whatever his behavior could be called. They held each other's eyes for an uncomfortable amount of time before she slowly took the pouch from him and left to throw it in the garbage, telling him without a word that there were no questions to be asked. It was the nicest thing she’d done for him all week.

  
  
Max didn’t bother to say goodbye, even though David tried to tell him so as he stood and got out of the cabin as fast as he could possibly manage without running. Across the grass and dirt, through the tent, past snoring Neil, into bed and he crashed, resisting the urge to vomit up the medicine. His mouth flooded with sour liquid and his stomach convulsed, but Max dug his head deeper into his pillow and held on through sheer willpower. He just had to fall asleep and he’d wake up fine.  _ Just go to sleep. Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep, go… _

  
  
Troubled drifting. 

  
  
Max was wandering the spaces of his house. It was both like he remembered and wasn’t, since it had no features that made any sort of impression in one’s mind. Any colors in its halls were bland and unassuming, the furniture sparse and the quiet. The grueling quiet that pressed down like a pillow in the hands of a deranged nurse, smothering any gasps and cries that tried to escape the walls, that smothering quiet that always made him want to scream. He passed through the living room and noted the shape of his mother still sprawled across the length of the couch, one arm dangled over the edge, a spent syringe suspended between her fingers and the floor, the needle’s point propping it in place as it met the wood. 

  
  
Max always tip toed over and knelt down so he could lay his head over her heart and confirm she was still with him, before he assumed his wandering. 

  
  
Wander, wander, wander.

  
  
He never got anywhere.

  
  
She never got up, never spoke, never opened her eyes and saw him.

  
  
Sometimes a shadow of a large man loomed a corner and Max was seized with the urge to turn and go the opposite way, which he always did. 

  
  
But sometimes he wasn’t quick enough.

  
  
He always woke up just as it grabbed him.

  
  
Max jolted with a sharp gasp and lashed out at where he thought the face of his offender was, catching something with his knuckles which earned a satisfying yelp. The hand let go of his shoulder and Max looked up, fighting for his eyes to focus on...David, holding his nose and looking wrongfully guilty. “Owie!”

  
  
“Oh, shit, it’s you.” Max didn’t mean that insultingly. No, he was relieved. 

  
  
David checked with his fingers to make sure he wasn’t bleeding and he wasn’t, so he shook it off. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Max.”

  
  
“You  _ didn’t _ .”

  
  
David raised his eyebrow like he didn’t believe him but he moved past it. “I’m just bringing you some brunch, you can go back to sleep after you eat.” 

  
  
Max sat up so David could hand him the tray of generic morning sustenance, finally fully awake. The grabbing was just David giving his shoulder a little shake to wake him and all the rest was nothing more than another bad dream. Now he was conscious and he could leave it behind...or he’d try to.

  
  
Max picked the food apart, muttering a lame thank you that he made sure sounded disingenuous and it was enough to get David to leave, yet his counselor paused halfway through ducking out of the tent. “You know, sometimes when you’re hurting on the outside, it can make things a little jumbled inside. You don’t have to be embarrassed for having a bad dream, Max.”

  
  
He dug his fork into the sausage patty, nearly snapping the plastic. Max could feel his pulse rapidly increasing with a near lethal concoction of mortification, heartache and deep seated bitterness. “Get the hell out of my tent or I’m going to start throwing eggs.”

  
  
“Roger that, kiddo.”

* * *

He hardly did anything else that day except read in his tent and lay down, yet he still turned in early for sleep and woke up late. Gwen was waking him now and in her own form of sympathy, she had done so after the other kids weren’t around the main tent area to save him any misplaced questioning. “Hey, you. Time for your check up.”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” he muttered, rolling over and squeezing his pillow closer. Gwen promptly took it away and pulled his blanket off. “Like what?”

Max muttered a jumbled  _ nevermind  _ as he sat up. His ears were ringing a little and he didn’t think he could be feeling worse. But he buried it deep under a façade of sleepiness as he got his shoes on and cooperatively tailed Gwen back to the cabin. She promptly left him with David to go take over watching the rest of the horse.

Max sighed as he took the thermometer again and repeated the routine David had set. His head was  _ pounding _ and it felt like he slept with a rock jamming into his spine all night. “Not feeling better, Max?” David asked, coming back with another juice box with the hope it might perk him up. 

When he tried to shrug, pain shot across his shoulders and he stiffened up with an involuntary noise. “Not really,” he said, biting the thermometer a little harder than necessary. He handed it to David after it beeped and as his counselor looked at it, David glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes, trying to be discreet. “You seem a little tired. Did you get enough--?” he began, until he looked down at it and went silent.

“What?” Max’s stomach flipped a little. He started to lean forward to look at it, then immediately reeled back as a hand went to touch his forehead. He would have punched him but his arms felt too stiff and the reaction delayed. “ What did we say about touching, idiot?! ”

David, for once, ignored his yelling as he stood up and set the kit aside. “You just have a tiny fever, it’s probably not a big deal. But just in case, I’m gonna make a call to the clinic in town, get you seen by a doctor.”

A cold shock ran down his spine. Max’s head started to shake of its own accord, despite the constricted muscles in his neck. “It’ll go away by itself…don’t do that.”

“You hate being babied, so I won’t baby you. A fever with an infection can be really serious, Max, you can’t take chances.” David argued, “And if you’re scared--”

“I’m not scared!” Max said hurriedly, the words jumbling together.  _ Real convincing _ . But he fucking hated doctors, hospitals, clinics. He had only been to a few in years he could remember but not a single experience left him with a smidge of trust for the next one. Needles, medications, judgmental and nosy people, the sounds of sick and miserable people...Hospitals just made his skin crawl with the feeling if he went, he might never leave.

Whether or not David picked up on any of his anxiety, Max couldn’t tell. “If you’d rather, Gwen could take you?” David offered.

Max didn’t answer. He just curled up in the chair and looked away from him, miserable as he tugged his sleeves over his hands and his hood over his head. He knew he couldn’t stop David, but he wasn’t going to participate or be cooperative. So, his counselor just retrieved a glass of water and set it on the table beside him, before stepping outside with his phone.

He must have nodded off, because he didn’t hear David coming back or moving around the cabin. He jolted as he felt a hand sting on his back and his eyes shot wide open. “Don’t sneak up on me,” he growled, as David knelt down to his height. He smiled at him apologetically, as he set a small plastic cup filled with a bubblegum pink liquid. “Sorry. Here, this will help your fever. Make sure to drink the water after you take it.”

Now that it wasn’t in pill form, it was less...sinister and he wondered if that was David’s intention. But he still asked, “Do I have to?”

His counselor picked it up and gently took his hand, placing it in it. “Yes, you do.”

Max eyed it for a long time. Never had bright pink ever been so menacing. But in the end, he gulped it down and quickly drank the water to get rid of the sticky sweet taste. For a minute, he was scared it didn’t go down. His throat was resisting, threatening to just cough all the liquid up but he clenched his teeth and it stayed down. “There...So, when are we going?”

“Well, they’re pretty busy. I couldn’t get an appointment until the morning after tomorrow. They told me to just keep an eye on you and your fever and keep cleaning the cut, and you’d be okay until then. Minor infection,  _ probably _ not serious.”

“I don’t like that emphasis on probably.”

“It’s an optimistic probably!”

He slowly raised one middle finger in David’s face, giving his opinion on that garbage statement but he just got a chuckle and  _ aw, Max, that’s not very nice _ in response.

But that didn’t change the fact he was soundly confined to the counselors cabin. He didn’t want to leave the chair, so David just took a pillow from his bed and an extra blanket to make him more comfortable where he was, though David did make him give up his hoodie. The whole ‘sweating out’ a fever thing was a myth according to him. Then his counselor fetched a cold pack in a towel and began to hand it to Max. But Max didn’t feel able to relax from his current position. It took a few seconds to reach out his hand for it, and when he did, he didn’t understand why it was so slow, why his body didn’t seem to care or listen to his brain. David beat him to the punch, and just placed the pack on his forehead, holding it in place. Max involuntarily closed his eyes, the chill bringing a little relief to his aching head and stinging skin that he didn’t even realize he had gotten used to. He really just wanted to sleep and he might have them and there if David hadn’t helped him put his own hand on it to hold it in place. “How’re you actually good at this stuff?” Max asked after a minute.

“What do you mean?” David was focused, trying to get the T.V on with the unresponsive remote.

“Playing nurse.”

There was such a drawn out pause in David’s response that it actually perked up Max’s curiosity. He looked at him without turning his head, watching David hesitate and fidget with the remote buttons until he finally answered, “My mom? I guess?”

“Your mom?”

“Mmhm.”

“Is she, like, a doctor or some shit?”

“She was a trauma surgeon.” Even though he was unusually curt with his response, Max pressed some more. “What does that mean?”

“She worked in the emergency room. When people came in with injuries and stuff that had to be treated right away, she helped them. Car accidents, heart attacks, animal attacks, that sort of thing. They needed someone who was the best even when everything was going wrong fast and that was her.” 

_ Huh. I don’t even know how to picture that person _ . “That’s— actually kinda cool.” 

“You think so?” David looked back at him with an oddly heavy smile. Pride, and bitter-sweetness weighed on his features. “She taught me a lot and I have all these books she wrote notes in to look at if I need to.”

He didn’t like how much past tense was being used, and Max knew there was a red flag here, but he was actually learning something about David’s past, satisfying a void of understanding he didn’t know he had. Like when he wanted to get to know his friends and be  _ closer,  _ that sort of silly pointless want that he always shoved down somewhere too deep to climb back up any time soon. He wrote it off as being happy at a show of weakness, and sat up as best he could. “Does she work at the hospital we’re going to? Please say no, I don’t think I can handle a duplicate of you in my current state.”

David’s shoulders tensed in a way that he didn’t know how to interpret. “No.” Was all he said, very quietly.

_ “ _ Oh...kay? Did she get fired?”

“No, Max. Hey, how about a DVD instead? Let’s see what there is.” the man abruptly stood and went over to the case to look through what was available, obviously trying to change the subject but Max wasn’t having it. He was trapped between a desire to prod at something he clearly shouldn’t and the compulsive need to smooth over something wrong he’d said. “Where does she work, then? A real town?” 

“Just leave it alone, okay, Max?”

And somehow, the desperate look David was giving him, telling him he was on thin ice with this conversation, took all the wind in Max’s sails away in a heartbeat. So, he let David pick a movie and he watched it alone as his counselor left to check on the rest of camp. He wasn’t the only kid in it, after all. 

* * *

Spending the night in the counselors cabin, although not the first time, was always disconcerting. He felt out of place, like he was both invader and prisoner. He missed his tent but Gwen and David insisted they had to keep an eye on him since his fever wasn’t budging. He did hear them arguing quietly, and got the gist being that they were trying to decide who was going to lend them their bed, both insisting they should give their bed up for him.

“I like the chair,” he interrupted and Gwen made a dismissive gesture at him, ignoring his input. “The chair is  _ fine!” _

_ “ _ Shut up, grown ups are talking.”

“Let’s not say shut up, it’s rude.” David said quickly and moved the conversation along.

In the end, David changed the sheets and pillow on his bed and got it made up with clean ones. Max was ushered into it on dragging feet and David gingerly helped steady him with a hand in his back. He felt pathetic, crawling under the quilt and lacking the energy to pull it up, so Gwen did it for him. “How do you feel?”

“Shitty.”

“Mhm, you look like it. Your foot hurt?”

“  _ Everything _ hurts, Gwen.” he admitted, and it was true. He couldn’t get comfortable. Everywhere the mattress pressed, he seemed to have a sore bruise. And he kept going back and forth between squirming to get comfortable, then freezing from how his pajamas seemed to scrape his skin like sandpaper. 

The only bearable thing to do was curl up really tight and breathe in short, quiet breaths. Gwen chewed at the inside of her cheek as she watched his ordeal, then reached over to the light switch and turned it down. “Try to get some sleep, it’ll help. Shut up and close your eyes.”

_ Ha. Comforting.  _ Max closed his eyes and blindly told her, “G’night, bitch.”

“G’night, hellspawn.”

* * *

David had trouble getting to sleep that night. His old fashioned gear clock ticked, ticked, ticked each second between the present and the reassuring presence of a pediatrician who knew better than him. Far too often, he kept craning his head around to see over the back of his chair, checking to see if anything had changed but Max was still curled up in a tight little ball around his teddy bear. There was no resting discontent on his face, no malicious curl at the corner of his mouth that warned he was about to say or do something absolutely inappropriate. David might say he looked outright peaceful, if he didn’t  _ know  _ better...Max was never at peace. It disagreed with him.

David just couldn’t stop thinking the worst and all the various things that could entail.  _ Poor Max, he’s been doing so well lately. This is the last thing he needs! I’m sure this will spoil his mood for a while… _

But what upset him most was that when he was making the appointment, he had absolutely no information to give on an ill child. No emergency contact, no address, no knowledge of allergies or conditions or lack thereof. He didn’t even know Max’s full name. He seemed healthy, maybe a little behind on growing and skinny when he first came to camp, and certainly not the best sleeper. Those were all things he had assumed were normal for an emotionally troubled kid who was too smart but under challenged and under _ appreciated  _ for his own good. So, picky appetite. Restless nights. And some kids were late on growth spurts. 

Right up until he started to deteriorate before David’s eyes, those theories worked but now he was dwelling on deeper, less comforting ones. 

And judging by how much Max insisted on treating it alone, David got the idea he was used to having to patch his own scrapes. He hoped his parents were decent enough to tend cuts and bruises, but he was (once again) disappointed on his campers behalf. It was yet another responsibility put on Max. 

And while it was nice to get some quality time with him in the last few days, David would have preferred him able to run around while reaping general havoc around the camp instead of being laid up indoors. Max would only be as docile as he had been if he truly wasn’t well, and David would trade a quiet, obedient Max for a healthy one any day. 

On top of that, he had filled out a report of the incident, despite the fact he couldn’t call anyone about it. He was required to alert the parents if their child was injured or endangered in any way for new insurance reasons (Gwen was smart enough to spend their newfound funds on important things like that) but he couldn’t even do that. 

Max only had him and Gwen. And they were next to useless to him because of the absentee efforts of his parents. 

It made his blood boil so fiercely, he had to bite his tongue the rest of the day just in case it came out in an ugly manner. He wouldn’t let him see him angry, he didn’t like being angry!

But was just so horribly  _ unfair _ .

They were supposed to care that their son was okay. They were supposed to be ready to help him if he wasn’t. They were supposed to  _ miss _ him when he was away.

But it had become plenty clear to David that Max was accustomed to fending for himself and if his counselors weren’t looking out for him, nobody was except for himself. 

_ As long as he’s here, he has us.  _

Careful not to let the chair creak as he stood, David tiptoed over to his bed and knelt down in the gloom. Max shifted slightly in his sleep, groaning so quietly that David wouldn’t have heard if he wasn’t right there. And then a shudder ran through his scrawny frame. Then another.  _ Oh, no. He’s shivering.  _ Chills weren’t uncommon with fevers but they were very unpleasant. 

David put the back of his hand against Max’s cheek to see if the medicine had made a difference. Then his heart crawled into his throat. The fever had gone  _ up _ and in addition, Max’s skin was damp, his hair plastered to his forehead and temples with sweat. His arms and legs jerked slightly every so often, like he was having another nightmare but every time, he made a little noise of discomfort in the back of his throat as he slept on.

David quickly peeled back the covers, not concerned if Max would wake up (he didn’t) so he could maneuver the boy’s little arm and pressed his thumb against the inside of the elbow. An elevated pulse fluttered with the same desperate struggle as a moth trapped inside a hot lampshade. The sheets rustled loudly, Max’s leg kicking slightly like it might if he was having a vivid dream but it seemed to ripple up and made his whole body shudder, his fingers curl and twitch, his shoulders jump and back tense. 

  
  
The realization that Max wasn’t shaking with chills set in with the same gentility as a gutpunch.

“ _ Oh, no _ . ” he whispered aloud in the dark. He rushed to his feet and across to the other side of the cabin so fast he nearly fell on his face in the process. Frantically grabbed Gwen’s arm and shook her as hard as he dared with time being of the essence. “Gwen, get up!”

“Wha-- the fff…” she grumbled, yanking it away and opening her eyes with a ridiculous amount of effort. She sat up, rubbing her hands roughly over her face, taking a second to collect herself before she looked at him with hooded, unimpressed eyes. “  **What** .”

“We have to take Max to the hospital. I need you to get the car started.”

She was wide awake then and already starting to get out of bed, plainly mirroring his own panic. Once he was certain she was up and aware, David abandoned her side to flick on the lights and put his shoes on lightning fast; no time to change out of his pajamas. 

  
  
Then the worst part. David loathed the idea of waking Max up when he so obviously needed the escape of sleep, but he knelt down beside him anyway and gently rocked him by the shoulder. “Hey, time to wake up.” he said, keeping his voice soft and calm. Max was a light sleeper, it should have been enough to earn backlash like always. A smack in the face, a  _ screw you, David!  _ And a solid five minutes of berating just for good measure.

  
  
The longer it didn’t happen, the more desperately David wished it could as Max gave him nothing. “Max!” he said louder, and the child’s eyes opened.  _ Oh, thank God _ . He tugged the blanket off and began to ease Max upright as tenderly as he could but the moment he started to move him, he was met with protests tumbling forth that didn’t even  _ sound  _ like the camper he knew and it just broke David’s heart to hear.

  
  
Max’s voice jumped up in pitch, warbling thin and fragile without even a hint of awareness.  _ “No, no, no, no, stop, it hu-urts, I don’t wanna get up…”  _

He choked back his own tearful voice and summoned every bit of willpower to make it steady. “I know, Max, I know but we need to get going now.” David didn’t think he would stay upright if he let him go, so he carefully inched his arms under Max’s legs and behind his back while he got ready to carry him. He felt Max flinch and whimper at the motion when the screen door slammed behind Gwen, who was full on sprinting out to get the car in order. 

  
  
Despite it all, Max talked. “Am--Am I okay?” the boy asked in a croaky voice and looked up at his counselor with glassy, unfocused eyes that proved just how badly he was burning up.

_ Of course you are. I’ve got you.  _ David wanted to say that but he knew that Max was better comforted by logical replies. The more facts in his favor, the more he felt like he had control of things. “You will be once we get you a doctor and that won’t be long.”

Max was silent. He hung his tired little head and uttered not a word but the whimpering noise he made when David lifted him up would haunt the man forever. 

  
  
No kid should feel that way. And he’d give anything in that second to switch places so Max didn’t have to. 

  
  
David shoved the screen door open with his shoulder and walked briskly across camp to the car, Max bundled up in his quilt against the windy night that might chill him if they weren’t careful. 

Gwen waved him over as she opened the door to the back seat and helped him get Max buckled into it. Once he was, he just slumped there with only the seatbelt keeping him upright. “Stay here with the campers,” David told her, opening the drivers door. “I have my phone. If anything happens--”

“I’ll fix it.” she said, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly before pushing him towards the drivers seat. “Better get going.”

He wished she could come with him. She was so good at keeping him focused and calm and just having her there gave him strength alone but...They couldn’t both leave the camp without properly explaining an emergency to Mr. Campbell. David knew a note just wouldn’t cut it. 

  
  
So he started the quiet, lonely drive in the dark alone and all he could hear the entire time were Max’s labored breaths, his feet scuffing the floor as he tried to find a position that brought relief but there wasn’t one to be found.

  
  
“Hang in there, Max, just a little longer. I know it feels bad but you’ll be all better before you know it! Sleepy Peak has great doctors, they know what to do.” David said in what he hoped was a cheery tone while he kept his eyes on the forested road ahead. For years, it was one of his favorite places to drive. It was beautiful and winding, just right for playing new music and contemplating the deeper things in life.

But now it was just an abyss with no end in sight, taunting him with the fear he wouldn’t make it.

Max mumbled something.

“S-say again?” David prompted him, hoping maybe getting him to talk would help distract Max from everything.

“--see your mom...?”

_ Why can’t I ever catch a break? _ “I told you she doesn’t work at the hospital anymore, remember?” he chose his words carefully.

Max paused. Then he asked with substantial confusion, “So...not going to see your mom?”

“No.” He focused on the road ahead.  _ Anything but that _ .

“I want  _ my  _ mom.”

David had no idea what to say to that. He had never, ever heard Max say he wanted his parents. It was a commonplace request from almost all the kids whenever letters and presents couldn’t compare to the real thing, but Max made it through every disaster, each frightening experience and scraped knee without ever uttering he might miss or need them. 

  
  
David couldn’t stomach telling him that she would be with him if she could be, because he just didn’t think it was true. He had given in to that bitter acceptance of a reality he dearly wished wasn’t real at all.

  
  
“I’m here for you, Max.” he said, the only thing he could think of to say that was completely genuine. 

Max was alarmingly quiet right up until David pulled up to the emergency room entrance, the doors dimly lit from within and ambulances on standby but currently not in use. They only had two for the whole county since they were so remote and David knew from experience that it was nearly always faster to just jump into your own car and gun it rather than wait. Sometimes he was the one gunning it. Sometimes he was the one in the back seat. But it was experience nonetheless.

  
  
He threw the car into park, kicked his door open (and briefly noted he had forgotten his seat belt; whoopsie) then rushed around the side to yank open Max’s door. He unbuckled Max’s belt with shaky hands and gathered him up in his arms for the second time that night so Max didn’t have to suffer trying to prove he could walk when he couldn’t. 

He started with a speed walk that turned into a slight run for the last few steps to clear the doors and David shouted, “ _ Somebody help! _ ” and shattered the sleepy atmosphere of the emergency room. There was a very startled receptionist who perked her head up from where she was leaning it in her hand, her eyes wide at the disheveled man yelling in front of her like it was life or death. She might have scolded him for his behavior when he clearly wasn’t hurt, but then she saw Max and she was up and picking up her intercom to page the right personnel. 

  
  
David stood in the middle of the lobby, subconsciously rocking side to side with Max still an inert little bundle that didn’t even badger him for acting like he was a toddler.

He felt nauseous and out of breath until he saw a doctor with a few other team members rushing down the hallway towards them All at once, he felt he could relinquish the control he barely had since this terrible ordeal had started and he struggled to find his voice while on the verge of tears. “He cut his foot,” David told them, while someone brought a wheelchair that he thought was too big for Max. Didn’t they have little kid ones? Probably not in the emergency room…

  
  
“How long ago?” the nurse asked as he unfolded it. “I don’t see blood.”

  
  
“It’s not bleeding, it’s infected!”

  
  
“Okay, take a breath. I can take him.” the nurse said patiently, reaching out for Max and David almost stepped back because no, he couldn’t do that,  _ I can’t just let a stranger take him, he’ll never be okay with that! He’ll wake up alone and scared and-- _

_  
_ _  
_ _ But I can’t help him.  _

  
  
So when he let the nurse take Max from him, David ceased to feel anything at all. All the horror, worry and desperation fizzled out with the adrenaline and he was left with nothing. 

  
  
The second nurse got the idea to sit him down and give him a second to process before she started with questions about the symptoms. David robotically rattled them off, crossing off the mental checklist of things he saw and didn’t deal with sooner.  _ Fever, muscle pain, convulsions, lack of appetite, fatigue, confusion... _

He answered the personal questions as best as he could but it was as limited as the camp resources.

“Patient’s full name?”  _ Max Purohit.  _

_  
_   
“Including his middle?” _ I...I don’t know that. Sorry. _

“Are you his parent or legal guardian?”  _ Camp Counselor. We’re on the northeast shore of Lake Lilac, Camp Campbell? The summer-- _

_  
_ _  
_ “Ah. Yes, we’re familiar. Do you know where his parents are, then?”  _ Portland, somewhere. _

  
  
“No address?”  _ No, sorry, they didn’t put one down this year. That happens sometimes. _

“Are you able to contact them?”  _ Not yet. We’re trying. _

“Do you know if he has allergies?”  _ No _ .

Every time he had to say it, David wilted a little more on the inside. They didn’t mean it this way...did they? Did they make sure that they couldn’t be reached because they-- 

  
  
David shook off those dark thoughts. He couldn’t go to that place, it wouldn’t help Max.

But he didn’t know anything that  _ could  _ help. She solemnly marked down her sheet and asked for someone to contact if they couldn’t reach him. He wasn’t going anywhere, but he did give them Gwen’s information just in case and Mr. Campbell’s after doubly in case and then he could only wait.

Tapping his foot, pacing, fidgeting his hands. It was wrong to sit still without knowing if his camper was okay and he had to do something, so David finally got up and found his way to the bathroom by memory.  _ This place never changes _ , he thought as he walked up to the mirror. 

  
  
David had no idea how unhinged he looked until he saw it. He was wearing hiking boots with flannels and a T-shirt without even his wallet or his hair combed or anything. Max would wake up eventually and he would be there to handle it but it would be better if he looked normal. So he washed his face in the sink, did his best to fix his hair to a semi professional state and went out to his car to look around in the trunk for a change of clothes. 

  
  
A spare set of khakis and a shirt that was indeed clean even though he had put it in there to donate it because of the paint stains on it from renovations were all he had to work with. But it was better than nothing. He changed in the bathroom, put his pajamas in the trunk and returned to the lobby. 

  
  
Barely an hour had passed.

_ Darn it. _

When he did finally sit down again, David was still all the way until morning. His eyes felt heavy, his hands shaky and head hurting, but he was never asleep. He was alert enough to see the same doctor from before coming down the hall and he quickly sat up straight. She glanced at her clip board and asked into the room which now had a few more people in it, “David Rowntree?”

_ Finally!  _

  
  
“Y-yes! That’s me!” he hopped up to his feet with renewed energy conjured from nowhere and closed the space between them before she really had time to react. “What’s happened to Max? Is he going to be okay? Can I take him home-- er, back to camp?” he rapid-fired.

“Slow  _ down _ , young man. There’s no rush now, you can relax.” She coached him while she found a particular page on her clipboard and studied it. “I understand you’re the caregiver at the moment?”

“I’m his camp counselor…” It felt silly out loud. “We are legally responsible for the children in the absence of the parents if there isn’t another option and he has no emergency contacts, so--”  _ So the list of people who can say they’re responsible for him is two names long and his parents aren’t on it _ .

“Then I can be a little more honest with you. We had to run a couple of tests to narrow down exactly what was wrong and they brought up some questions, so more tests. He’s contracted tetanus and from the time frame you gave us, it happened very quickly. The incubation period was less than a week and we were concerned this meant he could have an underlying condition that compromised his immune system--”

  
  
David was fighting to keep hearing her at that point and not recall articles on  _ terrifiedmothers _ . She went on, “Fortunately, he doesn’t. Unfortunately, Max came back negative for immunization.”

  
  
And he snapped right back to full focus. “He’s not vaccinated?” he asked, disbelieving. 

  
  
“No, he isn’t. He probably contracted it the day he got that cut and that was all it took. He’s lucky you brought him as quickly as you did, a lot of parents mistake the symptoms for flu or something less serious.”

“I--I had no idea.” his own voice sounded like it was speaking from behind glass, distant and muffled. “He’s not vaccinated for  _ anything _ ?” It didn’t make sense. He knew Max had talked about it in passing conversation, why would he talk like he had been when he wasn’t? 

  
  
Max had a grande capacity to lie but that was just something completely arbitrary to be dishonest about. There was no motivation and no reward. 

“It’s alright, you’re not the only summer camp the parents skimp on keeping informed. We’re still waiting on some tests to see what else he isn’t protected against so you can err on the side of caution, but so far he’s negative for the measles and whooping cough vaccines as well.”

“Thank you. Anything you can find out would be amazing, I...Can I see him? Is he okay?” he asked quietly, staring down at the floor. “He’ll be scared when he wakes up, even if he won’t say so.”

  
  
“It could be some time. We have him medicated and resting on an I.V, he really needed fluids and pain management. It’ll take some time for the antitoxin to work and he’ll need multiple shots of it before he’s out of the woods. He’ll be much, much more comfortable when he wakes up but we really don’t think it’ll be before noon.”

  
  
The doctor looked at him sympathetically; she even put her hand on his shoulder and when she said, “ _ Conejito _ ,” he suddenly remembered why she was so eerily familiar. He was so tired and frazzled he didn’t even see her name tag or truly look at her face, but he knew this woman. He knew this doctor. How many visits to his mother at work and...well, in hospice...did he see her?

  
  
She was always so nice, giving him green Jell-O cups and exclaiming,  _ Willow’s conejito!  _ When she saw him. Doctor Herrera. She’d worked beside his mother since before he was born. “Go home and rest, I can call when he’s awake.”   
  


“I can stay. It’s better I’m there when he is,” he waited politely before moving his shoulder away. He was David, not Willow’s kid.

“If you really think so, I don’t see why not. It’s admirable that you care about your campers so much.”

“He’s worth it.”

He kept rolling the meaning of those words over in his mind as he followed the doctor to Max’s room, just trying to fathom how his parents didn’t seem to feel the same. Sure, Max being a troublemaker was putting it lightly but he was still just a little boy. And kids lashed out when they’re angry, hurt or when they didn’t know how to handle whatever ordeal was in front of them. 

  
  
He had seen how Max could be compassionate when it counted, how much he would do for his friends. In his own backwards passive aggressive way, Max had the principles of a good kid and it wasn’t his fault people didn’t always take the time to see it. But David saw how much he cared and how much he cared about looking like he  _ didn’t _ . 

  
  
Max ran circles around most adults with just how much smarter he was and when he was given the chance to shine that, it was always something wonderful although diabolical. He always made David  _ proud _ . 

So nothing prepared him for seeing his favorite trouble-maker in that state. They hadn’t changed his clothes since there was no reason to, but there was a bandage on his hand that held an I.V in place, it’s contents fighting an invisible war to help him before it was too late. He looked so  _ tiny,  _ like a shivering kitten stranded in that big hospital bed, oblivious as the scary world went on around him.

“Oh, Max.” David breathed while he spread the quilt over Max that he’d carried him out of the cabin in. He’d fetched Mr. Honeynuts from the back seat of the car too and he tucked it against Max’s side just right so he could quickly find it when he regained consciousness. 

  
  
He sank into the uncomfortable plastic and aluminum chair by the bed and leaned his elbows on his knees so he could really wallow in how guilty he felt. “You didn’t deserve this. This should never have happened to you. They-- they could’ve-- they  _ should have  _ done everything to keep you safe.”

He waited, but Max kept sleeping. Good. He needed it. David studied his face, the dark bruises under his eyes and how his hair was still stuck to his forehead, the fever lowered but not broken. David took a minute to brush it back, carding his fingers through the poofy ink black locks to restore order to them. Max’s face, tense more often than not, seemed to relax a little bit.

  
  
“I know you can’t hear me, and that’s alright, you need the sleep. But someone has to say this to you, so I’m going to do it right now.”

He took a slow, deep breath. “Whatever happens next, however we handle your parents, because so help me  **God** it will be handled, you’re going to be okay. I  _ promise _ . You’re not going it alone from now on, because I’m going to be here every step of the way. And no matter what happens when summer ends, I’m not going to leave you. Things are going to be better, I will not  _ stop trying  _ until they are. No more just counting on yourself, alright?”

He waited, unsure what for. Maybe for Max to wake up, to say something but he didn’t. The boy slept on, rather soundly in fact, and the room was quiet except for the sound of the monitor and the white buzz of hospital activity. Distant P.A calls, footsteps that echoed on the linoleum, sometimes a distant baby’s cry. The world was waking up. Every time the kid moved, arched his back uncomfortably or shifted his arm, David sat ramrod straight to be ready. But he still didn’t wake.

Despite his best attempts to fight it, his exhaustion caught up to him and David found himself sitting back in the chair, his eyelids impossibly heavy and the world slowing around him as he dozed. He was so tired, the too-short chair back digging into his spine didn’t stop him from conking out.

  
  
But he didn’t sleep very long, maybe an hour before he gasped awake to his phone ringing loudly. He scrambled and yanked it out of his pocket, muting the ringer and looking at Max in alarm.  _ Still asleep. Phew _ . He ducked just outside the door and looked at the caller I.D.    
  
**CBFL**

He answered it quickly, “Hi! Hi, Gwen.” he said, more frantic than he meant to, in his attempt to sound upbeat but the relief to be reconnected to her was outstanding.

“ _ Holy shit, David! I’ve been texting you all morning! _ ”

“Whoops.”

“Are you still at the hospital? What happened? Is Max okay?”

David leaned around the door frame, double checking Max was still out like a light. He had rolled over with his back to David, facing the I.V and curled up around his bear. But he still seemed asleep.

**“EARTH TO DAVID?”**

“Gaa-ah! I’m here! Sorry.” He ducked back around and closed the door but left enough space open so he could still see through it. “Max is gonna be fine. They have him on medication and resting, but he’ll need to be here for a few days. I-It was pretty serious. If we had waited--” He closed his eyes and swallowed thickly, not wanting to finish that sentence. Gwen was quiet on the other line. He could hear her breathing softly. “He didn’t have a tetanus shot.” he admitted finally. “Gwen, he’s missing all these important shots. They said his immune system couldn’t fight it off, it was too weak, it just-- it ripped right through.”

“Jesus, he has fucking tetanus?” Gwen’s horror came through the radio waves. “We keep the camp so clean now, all the new money and Campbell actually trying a fucking half percent-- how did he get it?”

“It can just be in the soil and we wouldn’t know. I didn’t know. And I wasted all that time before I figured it out! Now he’s in all this pain and there’s  _ nothing  _ I can do--”

“Don’t you start that shit, you did everything right. From day one you were on the ball and because you were, you got him help before it was too late. And now you’re gonna be there for him when he wakes up and to take him home. This is  **not** your fault.”

“...It could be theirs,” David admitted, muttering it.

“Who?

“His parents. I bet if they had bothered, he wouldn’t even have to go through this but they didn’t. This has to qualify as neglect, we’re mandated reporters, Gwen.”

“Much as I want to, David, they aren’t legally obligated to vaccinate him, at least as long as he’s homeschooled. I think, I’ll double check. Has he ever said he is?”

  
  
“I think he goes to school,” David rubbed his aching forehead, really not sure. “What if he was allergic to penicillin?”

  
  
“David…”

  
  
“What if he had a compromised immune system and needed special care? They didn’t bother to even leave a phone number we could call! A relative, a pediatrician, it didn’t even have to be theirs!”

“I know,” she said patiently. “But we still might not have anything to report.”

“So we just  _ let this go? _ ”

“That is  **not** what I said. But think about it, David. What if we’re wrong? What if CPS shows up at his house and disrupts his life for no reason? Or, we call them now before we know enough and when they do go to investigate, they don’t know what to look for. Then they leave without finding any reason to take him away from there and--”

The sickening facts were sinking in. “And his parents might take it out on him.”

“Exactly. We have the rest of the summer to get Max to tell us anything if there’s anything  _ to  _ tell. All I’m saying is don’t jump the gun when your case is still thin enough to brush off.”

David felt his anger subside to a low, simmering boil he could contain again.  _ She’s so smart. _ He took a deep breath and let it out slowly whilst nodding before he remembered she couldn’t see him. “Thanks, Gwen. I-I needed that.”

He heard Max’s voice right then, but didn’t make out the words. He peeked through the door, seeing the boy slowly sit up on one elbow, hunched over as he began to get his bearings. “He’s awake. I’ll call you later, thanks Gwen, bye!” David felt bad hanging on her so abruptly, but he hadn’t wanted Max to wake up alone in a strange place.

The boy was mumbling to himself still and trying to pick off the medical tape that held his I.V feed in place on his hand. “Shit, shit, shit…”

David wanted to say something comforting, but he saw this going bad and rushed around the bed, grabbing Max’s wrist harder than he meant to prevent him from doing any damage. He regretted it immediately. Max actually cried out, either in pain or fear, and David instinctively let him go. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry.” he kept his voice quiet and tried to make his tone soothing, but Max disregarded him and went right after his hand again like an animal in a snare. 

  
  
“Max, please, you’re going to hurt yourself!” David protested desperately, hoping Max might listen but now he had managed somehow to get his fingers around the actual tube and  _ oh my god, he’s going to--  _ David rushed forward quickly and planted a hand on Max’s shoulder and the other grabbed his wrist again. He hated to do it, but he held Max firmly against his pillows to keep him from getting at his I.V. 

“Get off of me!” his voice was crackly and broke halfway through, barely making it out at all. “David, stop!”

Every little bit of energy Max had, he spent it trying to kick and struggle and yell but it was all short lived. “Get it out of me, I don’t want it, get it out,  _ get it OUT!” _

_  
_   
“Max, everything’s okay, you’re safe! The doctors gave it to you,” David blinked blurry eyes. Not a single thing was okay about any of this. “You really need that medicine.”

Max tried to sit up one more time but even if he was healthy, he was a ten year old. He wasn’t going anywhere if David didn’t let him. Finally, he went limp and glared up at his counselor, his green eyes rimmed red and shining with furious tears he either didn’t notice or didn’t care about. “I  **hate** you.” he said, with the most menacing growl he could muster.

_ He’s just scared _ . “That’s fine. Are you going to leave it if I let you go?”

Max turned his head away, clenching his jaw and not answering.

David wasn’t willing for a round two, so he put on his best stern voice and hoped for the best. “Hey. I’m serious. If you try to go after that I.V again, I’m calling the nurse and you can deal with him instead of me, is that what you want?”

“You’re an asshole,” As Max turned his head away, one big tear and then another trickled free over his nose and onto the pillow. He sniffled and seemed to try to steel himself with as deep of a breath as he could do. “Fine. I’ll stay.”

When David did let go of him, his hands hovered, ready to catch him if he broke his word but thankfully Max didn’t. He just stayed exactly as he was, hiding his face in the pillow from David and peeking out one eye to look at the I.V.

“What’s in it?” he asked.

“Antitoxin, some medicine for your pain, fluids to help you get hydrated. You have an infection, but they’re taking care of it.”

Max visibly cringed, closing his eyes and swallowing thickly or trying to. That was something he was having a hard time doing with his whole nervous system under attack. “I don’t want anything for pain.” he said, grinding everything word out deliberately to make them as clear as possible.

David hesitated as he tried not to get too many assumptions. He remembered Gwen’s advice about not rushing into anything and dealing with what they had. So he picked the bear up from where it had been knocked onto the floor in their scuffle. “I’ll talk to your doctor about it, but I can’t promise anything. They may need to treat it to help you heal. Here,” he took Max’s elbow, helping him lift his sore arm and snuggled the bear under it. As much as Max kept a miserable face, he did draw it in closer for the familiar comfort. His face grew a little red and David was sure he was embarrassed to be seen with it, but David said nothing. “Do you remember last night?”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

  
  
“The more to talk to me, the less you have to talk to the doctor.”

Max ruminated over his options for a few minutes before he finally gave an answer. “I remember you waking me up and the car a little bit. That’s all.”

“Yep, that’s right. We’re at Sleepy Peak General, the hospital. I drove you here a little after you went to bed.”

“What’s wrong with me?”

_ I wish he didn’t say it like that.  _ “Well,” David didn’t take his eyes off the wild-child as he pulled his chair up again and sat down. “You took a turn for the worst. You’re going to be okay, but it is serious...” He knew Max wouldn’t appreciate sugar coating, so he bit the bullet and told him outright about the tetanus, how long it would take to get better, what it might take. 

  
  
He was going to have to spend a little while in the hospital as he already was. Halfway through, Max turned over to look at him properly, his expression perpetually angry and offended, but he didn’t interrupt until David was done. “Max, do your parents take you to the doctor often?”

“Nah. I don’t really get sick.”

“There’s more reasons to go to the doctor than when you get hurt or sick. You know what preventative care is, right? They should at least take you before the start of each school year.”

“Yeah, I know but my mom said I spent a lot of time there as a baby and I guess that’s why I hate it.” Max was really avoiding his eyes now. “We don’t do hospitals. Doctors come to our house instead.”

David had so many questions but he had to focus on the most crucial thing and that was Max’s health. “Why were you in the hospital as a baby?”

“I don’t  _ know _ , I came too early or whatever.”

  
  
“You were born prematurely, you mean.”

  
  
“Yeah. That...I have no idea by how much. Mom said I didn’t leave the hospital until I was a few months old already.”

_ God-- Gosh darn it.  _ David rubbed the heels of his palms hard against his eyes, desperate for some sleep but he knew it was a long way off. That would have been great to know to tell the doctor. “New rule. From now on, Max, if you have any medical stuff you know about, I have to know it too.”

“Why? You’re not my dad.”

“But I  _ am  _ responsible for your safety as long as I’m your camp counselor. Do you understand what could have happened to you?”

Max slouched down further in the bed or tried to. When he moved, David watched him flinch and his shoulders jerk. He’d never experienced anything as serious as this; he grew up a pretty healthy kid, but he was familiar with the symptoms. He’d heard tetanus was a painful experience, especially for a child. But David didn’t press the question. He could tell Max understood, he just didn’t want to talk about it anymore and David had no intention of scaring him. “If you behave for the doctor, I’ll owe you.”

Max pondered it for a while as he curled his fingers around the arm of his bear like it was holding his hand. After much hesitation, he asked, “How much?” 

“Let’s say five I-owe-yous? You name the currency they take form in.”

“...you sure they’re not going to make me take something I don’t need if I say no?”

“No, she isn’t,” David fixed the corners of the blanket and pulled it back over Max, hoping he’d be more comfortable that way. “Doctor Herrera worked with my mom, don’t worry. I’d ask for someone else if I thought she wouldn’t take the best care of you.”

“What’s your mom’s name?” Max asked, his eyes already half closed. 

He choked down what felt like a lump of clay stuck painfully in his throat, knowing Max expected to meet her in this scenario. It didn’t always hit him this hard but the fact that she could never see where he was or meet the kids that were his whole world was just so profoundly painful—

“Willow.” David finally answered, resting his hand on Max’s head to keep him calm. It seemed to work, since he wasn’t told to knock it off. “Like the tree.”

“Of course it’s like the tree,” Max mumbled around a yawn. “Your fricking family would…”

“I think you’re going back to sleep now.”

“ _ Nnnoooo— _ “

“ _ Yeeeeeesss _ , Close those eyes. There you go...I’ll still be here.”

* * *

David had never seen Max shy before but he became a little turtle retreating into his shell as he was checked over. David did try to step out at the start when he thought Max might do better without someone he knew there to make him feel self conscious but then Max practically shouted,  _ “where the hell do you think you’re going?!” _

He got the message loud and clear; Max was outright petrified of being alone with the practitioner.

David patiently listened to the doctor go over what Max’s treatment would be to check that he understood it. He could tell Max was choking down the sarcastic answers the whole time which might have helped him cope with his blatant stress but David was silently so  _ proud  _ of him for trying to be good. 

Halfway through, he kept shooting David looks and then at the I.V, trying to hint something. David made a one minute gesture. He’d broach the subject once the doctor was finished.

“Well, Mister Purohi--”

“Max.”

“Max. Everything looks good. You should be running around in a week, give or take, and you’ll feel much more comfortable in less time than that. I recommend Davey brings you for a follow up exam afterwards, though.”

Max snickered and looked at David, “Davey?”

He was just happy that Max was perking up and acting like himself again, so he wasn’t bothered by the jab. “I went by it as a kid.” he explained. “That’s why Mister Campbell always calls me that.”

“I called him  _ conijito,”  _ Doctor Herrera chimed in. “Little bunny, since he was always bouncing around like one. So much energy!”

“I like to think that I’ve settled down a lot since I was  _ eight _ .” David smiled wryly, not at all happy with the nickname throwbacks. 

But it did make Max do something akin to a laugh. “That’s so fucking dorky.”

“Language,” the doctor minded him. She jotted down a note, tore the paper free and handed it to David. “I’ll be assigned to him for his stay, so if you have questions, just call that number.”

“Thanks, Doctor Herrera. I will.”

“I’ll get some breakfast sent up for you, Max. Any jello preference?”

“Uh...what kind is there?”

“Honestly, I don’t think they’re really in flavors, just colors.” Dr. Herrera joked with a smile and David did a double take. He swore that Max returned it even if it was just a tiny bit. “Red, green, yellow, blue.”

“Blue. Uh, please.”

Before she was gone, David followed her out and stopped her. “Wait. He wanted me to tell you, he doesn’t want to be on any pain medication.” he told her.

Dr. Herrera turned around, looking at her file on Max. “It’s nothing too potent, he is a ten year old after all. Does he have a history of bad reactions?”

“I don’t think so. He just seems pretty scared to be on them.”

“Is there a history of drug use in his family?”

“I don’t--”

“You don’t know,” she sighed. “Yeah, I’ve heard that a lot. I won’t lie, it’s going to be a very difficult recovery if he goes without but I’ll have him taken off them. Just let him know that if he changes his mind, it’s okay.”

“I will.”

After she had left, David took out his phone and unlocked it, hoping he wasn’t going to regret it a fiftieth time. He’d downloaded some more games while Max had fallen back asleep, knowing boredom was a whole new disease to contend with. There was one that was just a shark that swam around eating everything; it was a little morbid but not overtly so, putting it right in the sweet spot of interesting enough for Max but not morally upsetting for David to condone. 

  
  
He reentered the room and plopped it onto Max’s lap, who picked it up and gave him a distrusting look. He always  _ took  _ the phone, he was never given it. “I’m not  _ dying  _ , David.”

“Nope and thank goodness.”

Max fiddled with it for a while until his lunch was dropped off and the phone was forgotten almost immediately. He really was hungry and Dr. Herrara made sure to drop off an extra green jello for David. He was surprised she remembered but he hadn’t had breakfast either and it was better than nothing. “How soon can I cash in those I-owe-yous?” Max asked around a mouthful of waffle.

  
  
“One, don’t talk with your mouth full and two, whenever your little heart wants.” David chirped, peeling the lid off and silently wondering if he really wanted coffee or not. He did like it, he just was picky when it came to it. But right now, caffeine sounded divine.

“Can I ask you more about your mom?”

  
  
David clenched his jaw automatically. “Um...what makes you so curious?”

  
  
“I dunno, you’ve literally  _ never  _ talked about your family and I didn’t think about it until now. Then it got brought up and if I don’t ask, it’s gonna bug me.”

  
  
“That’s the only reason? You’re not up to any scheme, are you? Not going to try to reunite me with a fake cousin?”

  
  
“The thought might have crossed my mind,” Max smirked but it was short lived and replaced by an earnest expression. No pretending there. “But nah. I actually want to know.”

  
  
“Right. I did promise, after all…” David didn’t mean to say all of that in the form of a sigh but it came out like that regardless and Max instantly caught on to his mood.

“Ah, you don’t actually have to if it’s gonna make you all bummed out and shit…”

“A promise is a promise, I don’t break them. It’s fine.” He wasn’t eating his jello, just mashing it into a fine jiggly goop with the plastic fork. David didn’t know where to start and he didn’t want to pour the whole story on Max when he was how he was. He didn’t want to make him upset, either. “Mom always said the Rowntrees have deeper roots in Sleepy Peak than the actual rowntrees. I was born here, so was she and so on. We’ve gone back and forth between America and Scotland over the decades, though, so her father is actually from Orkney.”

  
  
“Can you do an accent?”

  
  
David smiled slightly. “Only when I spend too much time around Scots. It’s contagious.”

  
  
“ _ Pfft _ , I’d pay to see that.”

  
  
“I can speak it, y’know.”

  
  
“What, Scottish? It’s the same as English.”

  
  
“Gaelic is the language they spoke before English took over.”

  
  
“Say something, then.”

  
  
Put on the spot, David had trouble coming up with something. The first few things were usually whatever he said when he stubbed a toe or got a papercut, which obviously he wasn’t going to teach to Max. But he did remember all these sayings his family rattled off from pure memory and one came to the front of his mind before all the others. “ _ Is minig a bha droch bhròg air mnaoi griasaiche _ .”

Max stared at him, dumb founded as he finished chewing and said in a flat voice, “What even does that mean.”

  
  
“Often has a shoemaker’s wife had bad shoes.”

  
  
“That literally cleared up nothing.”

  
  
“Yeah,” David rubbed his hand over the back of his neck sheepishly as he admitted it. “I have no idea what it means, either. My granda just kept saying it all the time.”

  
  
“Where’s he?”

  
  
“Oh, in town...he brought me up, so he never goes far.”

  
  
“Brought y...oh.”

  
  
David saw the realization in Max’s eyes, the little back and forth looks as he followed his train of thought and came to the station. “Where’s your mom?”

  
  
David opened his mouth to say it but it was just a lost whisper. Max talked for him, “Is she dead?”

David flinched and looked at Max again, searching for a sneer or judgement but there was no such thing. He almost seemed  _ worried  _ and David wondered if his bluntness was just because he didn’t know how else to ask. So he nodded confirmation.

Max pushed his food tray further down his lap a little, and David picked it up for him and set it on the side table. He watched him rub his thumb over a loose eye on his teddy bear while David waited for him to say anything. It was a heavy silence, until Max finally broke it. “How long ago?” his voice was flat, barely above a whisper.

“Long before we even met. Gosh, you weren’t even born yet! The passage of time sure is something.” David plastered on a bright smile and picked up a napkin, giving it a dip in the water so it was damp and reaching over. Max has some syrup on his cheek and he tried to lean back with an annoyed grunt but David wiped it clean anyway. “ _ Stooop iiiiiit. _ ”

  
  
“Then don’t be messy.”   
  


“When I’m better, I’m going to beat the shit out of you.”

  
  
“I’m shaking in my boots.” David said teasingly and Max conjured the most malicious look he could possibly manage. “So what happened?” he asked, his renewed energy welcoming back the snark. 

That hit right on a raw nerve. Over the years, David did his best to keep a brave face whenever he talked about his mother. He focused on the good things; her kindness, creativity, all the good she did as a doctor and parent. But there was always the shadow cast over his childhood and memories by the disease that took her away and each time he thought about it (or worse; spoke) it seemed like it was coming to get him.

  
  
It did run in the family, afterall. “It’s not something for kids to talk about, buddy.”

“Don’t treat me like I’m fragile, David. You promised to share. I thought you didn’t break promises?”

“I don’t! But I never said how much I’d share and I think that’s enough. Maybe another day--”

“So you always want me to talk to you about my shit, but when it’s your turn, you just turn into a giant fucking hypocrite?” Max was raising his voice and it just made it harder for David to stay patient. He couldn’t take it personally. Max was stressed, and he had a point, he knew that, but he was so tired and  _ frustrated _ . The boy went on, “You’re always preaching about being open and helping each other, the same kumbaya bullshit rhetoric but I knew you were faking it! No guy with a dead mom is as happy as you are--”

_ Dead mom.  _ He lost his temper. “I said that’s enough, Max!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Max went quiet as a mouse and David could swear he saw a little hurt on his face in the way he somehow became smaller. David’s heart flooded with regret. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m sor--”

But Max turned over with a huff, yanking the blanket over his shoulder and then his head. “Forget it. I don’t care about your sob story; you have one just like everyone else, big fucking surprise...just come back when I can leave this shithole.”

  
  
David stood up and he wanted to argue, to get Max to at least look at him and see how sorry he was but...he was scared of just making it worse.

  
  
So before he left, David just patted the bed next to Max, knowing he’d feel it. “I’m gonna get you some of your stuff from camp, okay? I’ll be back by dinner time.”

“Whatever.”

David waited for Max to say or do anything else, but he was met with silence. And he knew he’d outstayed his welcome.

The whole drive home, David couldn’t get the sound of him the way Max just shut down completely when he raised his voice out of his mind. He didn’t mean it. It didn’t matter that Max was pushing a line he knew shouldn’t be; he was the child and David was the adult. He should have kept calm and been patient, especially when Max was just blowing off steam and could that really be held against him after the twenty four hours he just went through?

It was almost right on cue when his phone rang and he slowed down to tap the answer, then the speaker button so he could keep driving. “Hello?”

“David, it’s Gwen. Any updates?”

“He’s himself again, for the most part.”

“Ouch. Are you unscathed?”

“Physically, yes. I’m on my way back to get some of his stuff, he’s going to be there for at least a week. How are you doing?”

“I’m a god-damn pillar of order, David. I think I could actually run this shit hole solo. Not a chance in hell that I would, though.”

He cracked a smile, a real one. “I believe it. You’re pretty badass.”

She gasped, much louder than necessary to add sarcasm. “David, your potty-mouth!”

They shared a laugh and a comfortable pause settled between them until she spoke again. “I had an idea after I called you. I talked to Campbell and he might be able to find Max’s parents through the right avenues if he dedicates time to it...Kinda surprised at his willingness but we’re going to work on tracking down potential candidates and maybe have Max look to identify them.”

“You’re a regular Nancy Drew, Gwen!” He already felt hopeful again. If anyone could corner some elusive folks, it was a hellbent Gwen. “You think Max will actually help, though?”

“Of course you’ve read Nancy Drew…”

“They’re classics.”

“Uh huh, shut up. I think if we approached him about it right, he would. He’s diabolical, not unreasonable...Actually--”

“Be nice. He’s in the hospital.”

“Goddammit, you’re right. Anyway, I tried tracking them through parents’ payment records--”

“How did you get into that?”

“I’m smarter than Campbell, moving on. He said that Max’s mom has always paid in cash and he’s never even heard or seen a thing from his dad. He assumed it was just the two of them.”

“Darn...No, I don’t think that’s it, Max has talked about them as a unit. But we’re really doing this?”

“Something is fucked up with Max. A kid doesn’t end up like he does unless someone made him that way.”

“He tried to tear out his I.V when he woke up.”

“Why the  _ hell  _ would he do that?”

“He said he didn’t want pain medication. And he didn’t want to be alone with the doctor  _ and  _ he told me that his parents don’t take him to hospitals, they do house calls only. He did say that his mom told him he didn’t go home for a few months when he was born because he was so premature...he only ever mentions her.”

“He talked to you about his mom? He’s never done that with me.”

“He asked for her on the drive there but didn’t tell me much else. He mostly wanted me to talk about mine.”

“Uhh--”

Now that they had reached this bridge, the flood was coming and David spilled everything. “Gwen, I messed up. I thought I could handle talking about her, especially with Max but then he wanted to know what happened to her and I...I snapped at him. Because I didn’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Oh, Dave...” Gwen said sympathetically. She only ever called him by his short-name when she was worried and worried she should be.

“What if he doesn’t trust me enough to talk anymore?” His voice wavered. “He’s been trying so hard and I just killed his progress.”

“Don’t give yourself so much credit. Showing you can admit you’re wrong goes a long way with kids and Max isn’t as delicate as you’re making him out to be. Okay, I’m gonna hang up and let you drive. And-- ugh...CBFL.”

“Oh my gosh--” and she hung up on him. But he smiled the entire drive back. That little gesture to cheer him up meant the world.

* * *

Gwen heard the gravel crunching under the wheels as David pulled up to the camp entrance and broke off from the group to meet him at the cabin. “Campbell, you’re in charge.”

“Nobody wants that!” He shouted after her in cheer panic but she was already walking away with a smug smile at his expense.

She started the water in their bathroom since it took nearly fifteen minutes for it to get warm, not that David could mind but it was still a nice gesture. When the door opened and she heard him sigh, she leaned out the bathroom door to see him toeing off his shoes. His hair limp and mussed, circles starting under his eyes. “Hey, Gwen,” he said, smiling at her and giving a limp wave. He just looked ready to drop.

“Started the shower for you. Did you eat?”

“Oh-- thanks. Uh, no, I didn’t get a chance. Hospital food isn’t my favorite, you know? I’ll make something later.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, crossing her arms as she walked over to him. She expected the immediate knee-jerk response to reassure her, but this time she could see his shoulders sag and that twinkle in his eyes was dimmed.

Now, Gwen knew David loved each and every one of the campers. He would go to the edge of the earth for each of them.

But she also knew Max had a special place in his heart, especially since Parents Day. It wasn’t because he played favorites, but because David understood that sometimes one kid might need more than another and Max  _ definitely  _ needed more . Most of them had loving parents and a substantial home life waiting for them at the end of summer but Max didn’t have any of that. David stepped up. He always did, that was the kind of person he was and she admired that. It had encouraged her over the summer to make the same effort. “David,” she said quietly, reaching out to touch his shoulder. “You did good. He’s going to be okay because of you.”

“I’m just,” David stuttered and dragged his hands down over his face in pure exasperation, his words rattling with it. “So  _ sick  _ of bad things happening to him…I’m scared what’s going to happen to him when summer is over, Gwen.”

He surprised her when he took a half step forward and just plunked his forehead on her shoulder with a defeated sigh. All of her muscles locked up while she tried not to focus on his hair tickling her cheek or how she could feel every breath he took. Awkwardly, she just rested her hand on his back and patted it a little. “Okay, sad man, seriously. You need a shower.”

He let out a single-breath laugh and stood back while he rubbed his eyes. “Sorry. I’m just gonna-- yeah.” He shuffled past her and closed the bathroom door behind him.

Gwen shook her head and gave her cheek a quick smack to gear herself up.  _ Focus  _ . She could only leave the kids with Campbell for so long before they did something unspeakable to him. Her first task was to get to the Mess Hall and scrounge up a decent meal for David, since she was pretty sure he would forget to eat if someone didn’t put food right in front of him and point at it, not unlike you would for a confused labrador. 

Bland oatmeal was always in abundance but she did cut up an apple (all the slices were uneven. Her knife skills were shit) and dressed it with what little sugar and butter they had in stock. That plus his favorite tea (sage; it smelled incredibly floral and she hated it, caffeine free poison) and some canned corned beef hash she’d heated in a pan thrown on a tray completed a decent breakfast. He was coming out of the bathroom dressed by the time she came back with it and her heart warmed up when he showed her a real, bonafide David-smile. “Aw, Gwen! You made me breakfast? That’s so sweet.”

“How do you know it’s not for me?”

Sad puppy eyes, right on cue. “Oh. Well--”

“Kidding. God, you make it too easy to mess with you.” She set it down on his desk and he plunked down in front of it but he didn’t start eating. He immediately began searching through his desk for Max’s file, grabbed his favorite pen and began making notes in it. “What are you doing?”

“Just writing down some stuff the doctor told me.”

She hovered over his shoulder, something she hated personally but he never seemed to mind, reading what he wrote. His handwriting was long, rounded and a little spidery, but perfectly legible compared to hers. “Do you think he got sick so fast because he was premature?”

“Actually, most premature babies grow up pretty normal once they get past the infancy stage if they get the right support. Unless he had a disorder to start with or some other complication like lack of oxygen for example, it probably doesn’t matter. But it’s always better to know.”

She always forgot he was raised by a doctor. “But Max doesn’t have any of those things...right?”

“I don’t feel confident saying no,” David tapped his pen idly on the desk and Gwen nudged his tea mug closer passive aggressively, which he picked up without looking.  _ Wow. I know it’s bad when he’s autopiloting.  _ “But I’m pretty sure not. At worst, he’s behind on growing, I mean, he’s always been so  _ little.  _ But I didn’t think about it because so is Dolph and Nikki.”

  
  
“Dolph is younger and Nikki is taller  _ and  _ heavier than Max,” Gwen pointed out, gesturing vaguely at their heights as if they were there and she could compare them. “Plus Max could stand to eat a steak or two...every week. For a few years.”

  
  
“That reminds me, we have to finish the meal plan for next year now that the new finance plan is done and we have a head count.”

  
  
“Which I put Campbell on.”

  
  
“I trust your judgement so please know I’m asking this in the nicest way I can...why on earth would you do that?” David asked, slowly turning around with all the concern in the world in his eyes.   
  


“He’s really susceptible to guilt tripping if you do it properly,” maybe she was too satisfied with herself for that feat but it did actually help her forgive him a tiny bit for all the shittiness. At least he was starting to care and feeding the kids properly was a good start. “I’m weirdly proud of him. He’s insisting we get these weird rich people cookies for them as dessert or rewards.”

  
  
“Ugh, the molasses oatmeal berry ones. He used to make those waaaaay back when I was a camper,” David shuddered in disgust. “Shortbread any day.”

  
  
“White chocolate macadamia for me, but I did talk him into making them himself out of his own pocket and he’s pretty eager to do it. I mean, we could completely switch him over to the kitchen and the Quartermaster to full maintenance and security in the new year.”   
  


“If you think it’s a good idea, Gwen, I’m in.” 

  
  
She never knew what to say to all that confidence he placed in her. Every time he said something gushily supportive or complimentary, her brain developed a big rainbow spinning circle as it struggled for a response that sounded like a functioning adult came up with it. But he never poked her to say anything. He just smiled at her sweetly and finally started eating his (now cold) breakfast without complaint. 

Gwen sat down on her bed and opened the top drawer of her night stand, looking through it for anything she thought might be good to send back to the hospital for Max. A fidget cube, definitely, but she didn’t have much else that Max would like or that was appropriate, especially when it came to reading material. God, she was lousy with kids. Gwen thought she would get better the longer she spent at Camp Campbell but only some days were better than others and only the easy ones, if they could even be called that. 

  
  
“So he talked about his mom?” she asked whilst picking up the cube and heading to David’s side of the cabin to rummage. He didn’t mind and he had to have some comics or something she could put in a box. 

“He said he wanted her on the drive there and reiterated things sh e’d told him, if that qualifies as ‘about’. His mom can’t be so bad if he was asking for her, right?”

Gwen wasn’t going to talk to him about how kids could still feel affection for the wrong people and it wasn’t because she didn’t think David would understand. It was because she wanted to share his feeble hope that things weren’t nearly as bad as they both feared and Max’s home just needed a little sorting out from a third party. “I literally can’t picture Max asking for his mom.”

  
  
“Neither could I,” David set aside his empty dishes and leaned back in his chair. “Then he did it and I had no idea what to say to him...Are there a lot of Purohits in Oregon?”

Gwen’s heart sank. “It’s one of the most common Hindu surnames in the world. Tens of thousands on this side of the country alone.”

  
David said nothing for a long time; he only leaned forward again so he could put his face in his hands and he stayed that way until she wondered if he would unless she did something. Gwen got up and headed over, anxiously putting her hand on his back. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

  
  
“We’ve been talking about it,” he mumbled. 

  
  
“The logistics, yeah.”

  
  
Gwen moved her hand in what she hoped were soothing circles to get him to calm down, since this was an excruciatingly uncomfortable experience. It was one thing when he was a puddle of whiny tears over a break up or temporary fixable disaster, it was another thing to see him so forlorn and quiet. It was like someone dimmed him down and she’d lost her sunshine-y co counselor. “It all feels like they’re trying to get rid of him.” David finally confessed. “Like they’re making sure he can’t come home and I can’t wrap my head around why.”

  
  
“I don’t think you should be trying to, especially when you’re so sleep deprived. Go take a nap, David.”

  
  
“I can’t, I promised Max I’d be back soon and I have to get together his things, I won’t leave him there alone for longer than I have to.”

  
  
“You’re not going to, because you need to sleep.”

“I am fi--”

“If you say you’re fine, I’m throwing your mug out the window.”

He instinctively picked up his  **#1 Counselor** mug and hugged it against his chest with a meek expression.  _ I win  _ . “Tiny nap. Nasa nap.” He negotiated.

“Two hours, no more no less.”

They shook hands on it and once he had finished his tea, he trudged over to his bed and fell face first onto it with a  _ fwoomph _ . As much as he tried to fight it, he was asleep as soon as his head made impact. Gwen tugged her own blanket over him since he had left his quilt with Max and made sure his legs weren’t hanging off the side before closing the blinds and locking him in the cabin.

* * *

Ow.

Ow.

“OW! Son of a  _ bitch! _ ”

It was repetitive, jabbing spasms and pains in his back and legs. They were less frequent than the night before but now that he was apparently off whatever numbing effect they put him on, it felt like he was being gnawed on by a hundred little sets of teeth. Max had seriously underestimated just how bad it was going to be but he grit his teeth and stayed the course. No drugs. He didn’t need or want them and no matter how bad it got, he would still be himself. He wasn’t going to fade away.

  
  
The fever had yet to break and the only relief from the chills was the cozy quilt David had left him with. He vaguely remembered being swaddled in its softness when carried through the doors, a familiar teak like smell of wood and cotton helping him to feel a little bit more put together despite the circumstances. He realized now he saw it carefully folded at the end of David’s bed all the time but never actually paid attention to it.

So he paid attention to it then and studied the stitching and squares it was made up of.

It was all he had to do since he had no phone or books or anything and couldn’t leave the bed even if he tried (which he had). Max pulled it up to his chin, tucked his arms under it with Mr. Honeynuts hugged close and began to examine each and every inch. He was sure it was made by hand, each square following the border with a different depiction of the seasons and in the center of it all was a complicated knot design he followed the lines of to try to find the beginning and end but he couldn’t manage it. It worked like an infinity symbol.

The upper left corner, or his right, was vibrant greens with flowers, a fawn, and pairs of birds on the squares. The one next to it were different shades of green with yellow, depicting fireflies and willow trees, and the animals from before a little bigger. Below that, reds, oranges and browns, a stag...the longer he looked, the more details he discovered.

It at least kept him busy for a while as he dozed in and out, finding sleep again for a little while. But it wasn’t restful.

* * *

He didn’t understand why she kept doing this.

The cramped space was barely big enough for him now that he was outgrowing it at an excruciatingly s low rate. Each time the door shut and locked firmly on the outside, Max felt like a little part of him was going to be left behind when he was let out again.   
  
If he was let out again.    
  


Hours, sometimes days at a time he was stuck in there. He would spend them talking to his bear or sleeping, making up games of pretend if he could. Anything to pass the time and try to pretend he wasn’t forgotten about because even if his mother didn’t do anything to stop it, she would eventually come to his rescue. She always did but it was never soon enough.

He did think that it was his own fault. She warned him to not get in his fathers way when he came home but as always, he fucked up the  _ simplest  _ thing and got what he deserved. 

He heard the slam of a door somewhere in the house downstairs and his heart jumped with hope at the promise that maybe she was coming upstairs to get him. His punishment was served and his father’s temper had abided since his feral reaction to tripping over Max and his toys in the hallway, prompting him to literally pick him up and throw him inside the hallway closet in the first place. “Mom? Are you home? C-can I come out now? I’ll be quiet. Seriously, y-you...he won’t know I’m here, I swear.”

No answer.

“Mom?”

Silence. The sound of his own heart beat and breathing were deafening and the only things he could hear, the only things he had heard for God knew how long now and he was thirsty and hungry and tired and he couldn’t even sit down-- now his toe hurt, because he stupidly kicked the door.  _ Why did I think that would work? _ He thought miserably.  _ It’s fucking locked with a key. And he has it. That bastard and his fucking keys! _

Max kept calling and calling for his mother, his frustration at being ignored bubbling over until he outright tried screaming but it came out as a feeble rasp. Hitting the door felt just as futile, the blows he made the weakest he had ever thrown and he couldn’t find any purchase to try to jimmy it loose on the off chance that could possibly work. He even cursed out loud but then he remembered the rules about being quiet and there was no promising his father wouldn’t come back with renewed fury. If he did, Max might be able to bolt and hide out somewhere until it was forgotten about. But still nobody answered.

“They forgot me,” he whispered. He knew it. It was only a matter of time until she forgot about him or left him on purpose. He just wanted out. He wanted some light, something to eat, to talk to someone,  **he wanted out** .

“Let me out,” Max whimpered and leaned his head against the door. The walls were scraping his shoulders now and pushing in on him, threatening to crush him like a rigged tomb in a bad hollywood movie. He had to pull his arms in closer to his chest and Max dug his fingers into the wood, pain shooting up under his nails and everything got tighter and he shouted, “Let me out! Please!” before he lost his voice. Silently screaming, silently crying, silently wheezing for air he didn’t have.

**“Max?”**

He choked.  _ Mom? _

“Max!”

_ Mom, I can’t breathe. _

“Max, wake up!”

His eyes snapped open with a gasp, the white of the hospital room stinging the edges of his eyes that adjusted to the bright reality. He was face to face with someone. Dark reddish hair, brown skin, concerned eyes.  _ Gwen _ . She was holding by the shoulders and shaking him, sitting by his side. “Hey,” she said, starting to let him go. “Hey, it’s okay, just take it slow.”

He couldn’t find his voice. He was just so shocked she was there. He was shocked anyone was there. Max was sure he’d wake up alone and now that he hadn’t, he had no reaction prepared as he suddenly remembered that he could breathe. He dragged in a lungful of air that left him gasping and coughing like he had been underwater, the light headed feeling gradually fading away.

Gwen reached over the side of the bed, producing Mr. Honeynuts and offering it to him. “Sounded like a bad dream. You were asking for your mom.”

Max kept trying to say something, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Anything he did would reveal something he had to hide. _ Don’t ever tell anyone, Max, or they’ll take you away. _ He wanted to be honest with Gwen. They just had an unspoken sync; they could trust each other in a way that didn’t need explaining and he really wanted to use that trust but he was paralyzed. And he hated himself for not having the bravery. 

  
  
Max reached out numbly for his bear, the tears rolling freely down his cheeks as he suddenly remembered the last time she was holding it and his stomach hurt. He blinked up at her owlishly with silent resentment, asking without a word if she was going to mock him and he watched the inner workings of her mind play out across her face before _ there it is. Yeah. You better feel bad _ . Someone had to feel at least half as bad as he did some of the time; it was only fair. 

“I know,” she said. “I know, it was shitty of me but it’s not happening again.” 

  
  
She scooted closer on his bed and gently snuggled the bear against his chest so he had an easier time wrapping his arms around it, anguish shooting through his muscles and it drew a keening sound out that he was absolutely  _ mortified  _ by. So he buried his face in his bear and tried to turn his back on her in hopes she would just  _ leave.  _

“Christ, you poor little monster.” He felt Gwen draw him into her arms, the first time she had ever hugged him. Her embrace was firm and the way she curled around him, she was like a mama bear shielding him from the world. Even though his skin hurt at every little touch, he didn’t mind. He didn’t want her to leave. “I get it. You don’t want to talk, you don’t have to. But don’t you hide your tears from me. They matter,  _ you  _ matter. And if you’re in pain, there’s nothing wrong with showing it.”

_ Aw, fuck. _

The last thing he ever needed was to be validated because once that was a thing, there was no closing the floodgate. Tiny, breathless sobs worked their way out and Max tried to shut his eyes tight but that didn’t work to keep the tears from coming and making him look like a  _ whiny  _ little kid. He just wanted to be able to handle this. If he could make it through it, he could make it through anything but he was so tired and hurt so much and he knew that nobody had called his parents.

  
  
Nobody could.

  
  
Because they didn’t care if anything happened to him.

  
  
Gwen cradled him tight and he buried his face in her sleeve to muffle his crying for what felt like a humiliatingly long time. But composure gradually reintroduced itself and Max was able to draw in full, calm breaths to shut himself up and with an excessive amount of blinking, got himself close to something like dry eyes. Gwen put her hand on his head and leaned back a bit so he could see her face. “Good?” she asked.

_ No. Maybe. Better at least… _

_  
_ _  
_ “Good,” he replied as she eased him backwards against the pillows and then brushed her thumb over his cheek to dry it. Max was so incredibly drained that he couldn’t even resist. “I’m gonna go grab something for you. I’ll be two minutes.”

“Okay.” he said hollowly. No questions. Too tired.

  
  
But she was gone for less time than that, he thought. She came back with a cloth in her hands that looked dampened and was folded into a neat rectangle. She sat down beside him again, “Close your eyes.” she told him and he did, albeit suspiciously.

  
  
He was met with a cool, soothing touch across his eyes and forehead that he immediately recognized as the cloth. Gwen’s hand rested over it to keep it in place and the effect instantly helped him get back to earth quicker as it soothed his puffy eyes and fever. After a little bit, she turned it over to the cool side. “You want to know something funny?”

  
  
Max only managed a grunt of affirmation, a feeble ‘yeh’ that just qualified as communication. “I ditched David at camp.”

He couldn’t keep from making an itty bitty smile. “You did?”

“Yep, locked him in the cabin while he was napping but I grabbed your stuff first.”

He took the cloth off of his face as she handed him David’s phone and scooted his duffel bag under the bed. He ran a hand over the blanket to ground himself to the reminder that he was indeed awake and very far from the closet in the hall by his father’s office. Then pointed at the intricate knot in an attempt to make a distracting conversation, “What is that?”

“David’s family crest.”

“People don’t still have those.”

“They most certainly do, depending on who and where. He told me his family came from this ancient Scottish clan that got wiped out during the Jacobite rebellion and anyone who was left got the hell out of dodge to America and hit the Oregon trail not long after.”

“What’s the Jacobite rebellion?”

  
  
“Scotland tried to reclaim independence from Britain with some guy who was related to the previous royal family or whatever...they lost and David said it was pretty much the eradication of the highland culture after that. Not unlike everywhere else Britain ever colonized.”

  
  
“Or stole from. Curry and tea, we did it first, thanks very much.” Max unlocked the phone to find about two million messages from Neil and Nikki losing their goddamn minds. That was a peculiar parallel, coming from two places subjugated by the same people. Not entirely the same but…

  
  
Max rested the phone in his lap and deflated. “Gwen?”

  
  
“Yeah?”

  
  
“Is he pissed at me?”

Gwen unzipped the duffel bag and began setting a clean set of pajamas he did not recognize as his own on the bed but judging by the stripes and old-timey style, she probably bought them in town. “For what, all the shit you asked about his mom?”

“So he is mad.”

“Not mad, hon, just overwhelmed. Sometimes he gets like that when she comes up even if he wants to talk about her.” Gwen started folding back the blanket neatly and adjusting the settings on the bed to get him sat upright. Max finally noticed he was still in his jeans and camp shirt he always slept in.  _ Dang it. _ “Why?”

He watched her hesitate. She was a gossip but she probably didn’t want to betray David’s privacy. He could see the wheels turning in her mind over how to choose her words and sat down on the bed again to hand him a hair brush. He wasn’t completely sure he had the motor skills, but the thought counted. “It can be pretty traumatic to watch someone you love get sick and just get worse until...Well, you know. He hardly talks about it with me but I know he’s always worried about it being passed on.”

Max watched her expression, halfway through texting his friends back that he was alive. “Pass  _ what  _ on?”

“Cystic fibrosis. It doesn’t always show in every family member but it can be genetically passed on.”

  
  
Max felt like someone just dumped ice water on his head. “David’s sick?”

“No! If he had it you’d have killed him already and that’s if he made it out of the house to even work at camp. David’s fine, Max, he’s crazy healthy, you can literally hit him with a bus and he’ll Bruce Lee back up like nothing.”

His hands were so heavy with dread that he could barely hit send so Neil and Nikki could hear he was okay from someone besides the counselors. There was having fun and then there was being cruel and Max had cleared that line and then some with his insensitive questioning. It wasn’t fair that he just assumed David didn’t have baggage; everyone in the world did, he was no exception. “There’s no way he isn’t mad at me, Gwen.”

“He is  _ not _ . He feels terrible he lost his temper.”

“Pfft, that was losing his temper?” Max deflected, but the look she gave him took the venom out of it right away. She wasn’t buying it. “Fine. You should probably get out of here, before Neil burns the camp down or Harrison tears a hole into the next dimension.”

“David and Campbell can sweat it out for a bit longer. Think you can get changed by yourself?”

  
  
“Of course I fucking can, I’m not a toddler!”

  
  
“Don’t be a brat.” 

  
  
Max flipped her the bird as she left the room to give him privacy but the moment she was gone he was instantly uncertain he could actually do it. Every part of him was so shaky and sore that it was pulling teeth to do even the most basic gross motor skills. 

  
  
It took so long for him to accomplish the task that halfway through, Gwen knocked on the door. “Max? You sure you’re okay?”

  
  
“Yes! Leave me alone, for fuck’s  _ sake _ , Gwen!”

  
  
“You sound like you’re doing great.”

  
  
“Sarcastic bitch always giving me shit for the littlest-- I am doing great, shut up--” he grumbled under his breath as he finally got the pajamas pants up and left the shirt alone. How was he going to get it on without screwing around with the I.V? They’d need the nurse’s help for that and he wasn’t hitting that pager unless it was life or death. “Can I come in now?” Gwen knocked once and Max was struggling to move the blanket out of the way. “Yeah,” he said, his voice shakier than he expected.

  
  
She closed the door softly behind her and Max didn’t say a word as she took over his task. She folded the blanket back and then held his ankles gently, “Ready?”

  
  
It always hurt to move now and Max bit down on the inside of his cheek while his counselor helped him lay back down and then tucked him back into bed like he was a five year old. He felt nauseous, a sour taste and unpleasant choking sensation building his throat as wave after wave hit him sharply. 

  
  
“Max,” Gwen said firmly, taking the washcloth and pressing it against his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut, the cool touch not really alleviating his pain but helping to keep him from mentally succumbing to it. “Keep your breathing slow and try to relax.”

  
  
“I  _ am  _ relaxed,” he muttered through his teeth. She tilted his head with one hand to press it against his neck, his clavicle, then his forehead again and she kept repeating this. It did help his discomfort a ton but he felt like he was slowly, relentlessly being crushed and it was hard to breathe, hard to move, hard to think. 

  
  
_ David said it would be bad _ .

  
  
Max blinked hard. That wasn’t his own thoughts talking to him.

  
  
_ You can change your mind. Just a little bit. _

_  
_ _  
_ “Nnh,” he grumbled, unable to get his tongue to cooperate and form words. 

  
  
_ You can go to sleep and not feel a thing. Forget about it all. _

_  
_ _  
_ “Hey,” Gwen snapped her fingers by his ear and he snapped his eyes open again, not realizing he had been making this continuous whining sound until he had stopped. He thought it was a pipe or machine or something but no; it’d been himself. “How bad is it?” she asked gently, giving him her hand to squeeze and he tried, God he tried but he didn’t even have that much strength.

  
  
He didn’t have a voice, though. So she put the cloth down and took both of his hands and began carefully folding a finger down one by one. “Stop me when I’m there, one out of ten.”

  
  
Max stopped her at seven. _ I can’t even lie _ . 

  
  
Gwen pursed her lips at him before she covered his hands with the blanket and nodded, “Alright,” and started to reach for the pager. 

  
  
Max panicked. He miraculously found his voice and cried, “Don’t!” as he made an attempt to sit up but the muscles in his back seized and he instantly collapsed like a marionette losing its strings. He didn’t mean to sob when he hit the bed but he did. There was no stifling it.

  
  
Gwen awkwardly ran her hand over his hair until the initial inflammation passed and there was no sound except for his hiss like gasping for a long time. “I can’t make it go away but I can try to distract you,” she offered.

  
  
_ Fuck. Yes. That’s good. Distraction is good, I’ll take anything.  _ He translated all of that into a singular nod.

  
  
Gwen dug through the duffel bag to reveal she had brought a hoard of dvd’s and VHS tapes of her favorite trashy shows and movies. Under any other circumstance, he would vehemently reject the idea but this was just what he needed. As the first show started on the little monitor T.V, Gwen carefully leaned him upright and helped his shirt off over his head.

  
  
“It’s fine, I can thread the bag through.” She reassured him as he leaned his full weight against her arm. 

  
  
She took the bag off of his I.V and fed it through the sleeve of the shirt before doing the same with the clean one but reversing the process. She laid him back down and did the buttons up for him one by one, the pajamas much softer than jeans and a t-shirt by far. 

  
  
_ Teen Wolf isn’t so bad,  _ he thought deliriously as he murmured what he hoped sounded close to ‘thanks’ to Gwen while she sat down beside his bed like a silent sentinel.

* * *

It didn’t get much better than that for the first seventy two hours or so. Max got so close to giving in and asking for the doctor to do something about his pain but he had this vague memory of David squeezing his hand and keeping the other palm over Max’s heart like that somehow helped encourage it to beat a regular tempo. “I know it’s bad, Max but you’re being so brave and I’m so  _ proud  _ of you.”

  
  
He couldn’t answer back with anything except squeezing David’s hand but Max found a new resolve. Someone was proud of him. He could get through this. 

This became the routine for days. Gwen and David traded off, brought him books and things to distract him so there was almost never one missing from his bedside. Max couldn’t remember being so doted on in his entire life and it made his head spin just to experience the uninterrupted concern. He often fell asleep just after they left, so he often woke up alone from bad dreams in the dim hours of morning. It left him hoping for the reassuring presence of his counselors who represented he was far, far away from the dull house that was chokingly quiet and restricting, not unlike a plastic back duck taped around your head. 

  
  
Max had to work hard on not overthinking it.

  
  
Yes, he had to go back.

  
  
_ No, he didn’t want to. _

  
  
Yes, he was stupid because he couldn’t just want to stay somewhere that was temporary with people that didn’t want him in the long haul.

  
  
_ No...he didn’t want them. _

  
  
Yes, he did. He really, really did.

  
  
He didn’t come out from under the shelter of covers with his teddy bear until the nurse either came to tend him or they let him know one of his visitors was coming. In that case, the reset button was always hit.

  
  
David never talked to him about the family chat incident. Max tried to breach the subject once, croaking in a meager voice he didn’t recognize as his own anymore. “You haven’t tried to talk about it.”

  
  
“About what, Max?” David said patiently, despite being interrupted in the middle of reading to him. Little kids got read to but Max couldn’t focus on a book himself and it wasn’t unpleasant, so he tolerated it. Yeah. 

  
  
Tolerated.

  
  
Max opened his mouth and lifted his head to emphasize his frustration but agony shot up his spine and he locked up again. David quickly got up and moved the pillow to support his head so he could very, very gradually lower it back down and Max was left with his head pounding. “Whatever you’re worried about, it can wait until you’re all better.”

  
  
Max clenched his teeth and his vision started to blur so he shut his eyes tight to keep anything as idiotic as more tears from getting out. He didn’t think it could wait, it was eating him up inside like a parasite but that was the end of it.

But as much as it felt like it would never come, the blessed day came for him to be discharged. His pain had cleared, he tested negative for the virus and he was scheduled for a routine follow up appointment in a week with nothing but a few precautionary measures to go back to camp with. 

  
  
As Dr. Herrera went over how to take care of him back at camp with David, Max just kept pacing back and forth behind him, holding his backpack straps eagerly and relishing the fact that he was back in his old clothes and had his voice back. That was the best part of it all. 

  
  
“Can we  _ go _ ? ” he demanded, lurking in David’s blind spot and yanking on the back of his vest to try and tow him to the door.

David took the notes from the doctor and got his car keys out of his pocket, laughing a little. “Yes, we’re going. You’re pretty excited to go back to camp, huh, Max?”

He quickly let him go. “ _ Ican’thearyou,I’mwalkingaway! _ ”

As he made a beeline for the parking lot, David was hot on his heels. “Wait, you don’t know where we’re parked! Don’t run!”

_ Just look for the station wagon begging to be put out of its misery _ . But the hospital parking lot was a lot bigger than he expected and he hadn’t really been conscious enough when he was brought there to map it. He lingered outside the doors while David caught up and took a minute to suck in his first true lungful of fresh air in two weeks. Oregon pines and mountain rain; a huge improvement to the clinical stench of purell and old people that permeated his nose. This was one thing he truly appreciated that he couldn’t get back in the city.

David caught up with him and the station wagon beeped distantly as he hit the unlock button. He didn’t say anything while he walked and read the papers given to him at the same time but he did tap Max’s arm to encourage him to follow. The ten year old fell into step beside him and glanced at the rolled up quilt under his arm. He’d grown a little fond of it during his hospital stay and when the nurses offered to wash it, he declined; it smelled like camp and if he slept deeply enough, it felt like he was there.

  
  
“Hey, David, what’s a Dara knot?”

David stopped to open the back door for Max. “Hm? Oh, you mean the blanket?”

  
  
“Yeah.”

  
  
“It’s an old Scottish symbol, a celtic knot. It represents the roots of an oak tree.”

  
  
“Why?”

  
  
“Well, oak trees can be very meaningful in different ways and different places but it has a really special place in my family’s history.”

“You’re Scottish, right?”

“Scottish and Swedish.”

“So, a white guy.”

David let out a very patient sigh, “Sure.”

“What does it mean in Scotland?” Max tossed his stuff into the back seat and climbed in, putting on his seat belt. David dropped the rolled quilt onto his lap and didn’t answer him until he was in the driver's seat. “Strength, friendship, leadership, wisdom...Being steadfast through hard times. Plant strong roots so you can grow tall.”

_ Suits him  _ . “Have you ever been to Scotland?”

“One time. And France, too, if you remember. Have you ever traveled, Max?”

“No...I’ve never even left Oregon.”

“Never ever?”

  
  
“Don’t say that, it makes you sound stupid.”

  
  
“Didn’t your parents take you to visit relatives? I mean, if you have them.”

  
  
“I don’t think we do...Must be nice to have a grandpa around, though, especially one that likes you.”

David started the car and circled out of the lot, turning onto the main road. “Must be,” he agreed softly and Max’s heart dropped a little bit.

  
  
“You don’t?”

  
  
“I did, I think. I’m not so sure anymore.”

“...Do you want to talk about it?” Max asked carefully, finally breaching the touchy subject. He saw David tap his long fingers on the wheel anxiously, which was unlike him. He did notice for the first time his knuckles had a few white, subtle scars here and there. Nothing too noticeable unless you looked hard enough.  _ Weird  _ . “You can ask two questions. Nothing mean.” David said finally.

“Is he still alive?” Max jumped on the chance So David wasn’t pissed after all, like Gwen said. 

“Sure is. He has a farm off the west of town near the forest, built it himself.”

Max thought over his second question, trying to obey the nothing mean rule but it was harder than he thought. He didn’t really always know  _ how  _ things sounded when he said them. He could mean something perfectly innocent but still sound like a jerk. “Are you...I dunno, close? Like, he was nice to you growing up?”

He felt the car slowing down a bit as David thought over his answer and his neck prickled at how he hesitated for so long. “He was nice,” David said quietly. “He took me in when my mom died, raised me and put me through school and all. We just had each other, except for my aunt, but he-- he expected so much from me and was so stubborn and he just didn’t listen, so I...When I found out he’d been keeping a secret from me, I couldn’t stay around that anymore.”

“What was the secret?”

“I said two, Max.”

“Sorry…”

“It’s-- alright. I’ll tell you.”

Max sat forward in his seat, surprised but he honestly really wanted to know. Even if it was going to be depressing.

“My dad left when I was two. He’d been writing to me for years but Granda hid the letters from me. I’ve never read them.”

Max sat back in his seat.  _ Fuck.  _ Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn’t that. “That’s fucked up.”

“Yeah.” David said it like he was just realizing it. “It  _ is  _ fucked up!”

Max went silent in shock, before he burst out laughing. That was two, maybe three times David had ever dropped the f bomb around him. He was almost a little proud and he heard him chuckling as he turned on the radio. The car filled with gently playing acoustic music plinking along a six string with an even more soothing gravelly voice to pair. Max had no idea who the artist was, but...he kind of liked it.

_ Where the road is dark and the seed is sowed _

_ Where the gun is cocked and the bullet's cold _

_ Where the miles are marked in the blood and gold _

_ I'll meet you further on up the road... _

“Who is this?” He asked, leaning his head against the window. 

“Are you kidding, Max? You’ve never heard of Johnny Cash?” David exclaimed. Max thought he was overdoing it, but that was David. 

“I assume he’s primarily for an elderly audience?”

“I’m only twenty four!”

“Uh huh. He’s okay .” Max didn’t listen to music much at all, and lacked an appreciation for it. But the low guitar beat and lulling, gravely voice of some grizzled sounding old man singing about whatever existential crisis he had was pretty cool. Along the road, he saw one of the many public parks around Sleepy Peak. A large pond with picnic tables arranged around it, where families were renting canoes and barbecuing, trees lining the entrance. At the far edge of the water, there were a few willow trees bordering it, their tendrils swaying in the wind. 

“David?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m...I’m sorry about your mom. And I’m sorry I was shitty to you about it. It’s your choice to talk about her. I shouldn’t have—“

“Max,” he heard a slight break in David’s voice. But no anger like he’d expected. “I know you weren’t trying to be hurtful, it’s okay. I was never mad at you.” 

“...But you seemed pretty pissed off. You even yelled.” Max mumbled it, as he pulled the collar of his hoodie up over his face. An anxious habit he didn’t do as often as he used to but it was making a comeback.

“And I shouldn’t have and I’m sorry. It is  _ never  _ okay for me to snap at you. I was wrong, Max.”

He’d never hear that from his parents. Max slowly lowered his collar back down and rested his hands normally on his lap, the anxiety receding like a bad storm. “I think— I think that your mom would be proud of you. You’re helping people, too.” 

David was quiet for so long that Max thought maybe he broke him by being genuinely kind for once. It was too big of a shock, his heart couldn’t take it or something. “David?”

“Whoops, sorry. I’m just a little surprised is all. That was a really nice thing to say, Max, thank you.”

“Wh--!” Max sputtered in offense. “I can be nice  _ sometimes _ , shitheel!”

“There he is,” David laughed as Max kicked the back of his seat as hard as he could manage. His toe hurt a little after, but he was satisfied. 

They didn’t say anything else for the drive. David turned up the radio, and Max could hear him quietly singing along. Not his usual cheery campfire song voice, but something more relaxed and natural. It was kind of nice, soothing even. If he sang like that, maybe he wouldn’t be so goddamn annoying. 

He knew everything would return to normal when he got back to camp. He’d clam up again and go back to his routine. No more being doted on by people contractually obligated to do so, and then some. He felt a mixture of sadness and relief. He wanted that sheltering distance between him and others always, but it had been nice to be looked after. To get a hug from Gwen and his tears acknowledged, his well being out first by David, talking with them normally without the combative bullshit he spewed mechanically to drive people away before they could learn he wasn’t worth sticking around for. It had been new and unfamiliar, and anything in those categories sent Max running. He didn’t want to get attached when it only ended badly. And if he did get attached, he would start to think about how he treated them and he wasn’t about that.

When summer ended, so would this. Even if they did care like they promised they did (and he almost believed it, hoped he could believe it), they would have to send him away. There was no guarantee he would ever come back to Camp. He would have no bed to climb into when he was hurt or sick or scared, no one to put bandaids on his knees, no one to talk him down from his stupid ready episodes that came and went as they pleaded. He’d be alone again. 

But until then, he had this hour-long car ride. He had this song that David knew by heart, a soft quilt that he unfolded over his legs and all the trees to watch as they went by. He would try his best to commit it to memory. 

“ _ When you're weary, feeling small _

_ When tears are in your eyes, I'll dry them all _

_ I'm on your side, oh, when times get rough _

_ And friends just can't be found _

_ Like a bridge over troubled water _

_ I will lay me down _

_ Like a bridge over troubled water _

_ I will lay me down _ .”

David slowed to a stop at the camp entrance and turned around in his seat to look at Max. “Okay, we made it in one piece. I know things are going to go back to normal when you get out, but don’t forget, if you start feeling sick again, Gwen and I are here whenever you need us.”

Max knew he was being honest. If David could be there always, he could be but he didn’t think his counselor was taking into account that promise ran out when summer did. He didn’t say anything as he tried to hand the blanket back to David, the man just shook his head with that soft, calm smile. “Why don’t you hold onto it for a while?”

“For real?”

“Yep. I’m a little old for a blankie, I think.”

“It is not a blankie, don’t call it that or you can have the stupid thing back.” 

David turned off the car and began to open the door. “Okay, okay. We made it. You can skedaddle now, you’re free at last...until your follow up appointment.”

Max shoved the quilt into his backpack, and hurried out of the car, making a beeline for the mess hall where he was sure his friends would be until he stopped, and looked back at where David meandered towards the counselor cabin. David stopped, then raised a hand in a little wave. A silent way of saying _ I’m here. It’s okay  _ . 

Max waved back, just once, before he turned it to a middle finger just to make sure David didn’t get too sentimental. There were limits to this. 

But the limits had a few exceptions now. And he was okay with that.


	2. Chapter 2

He was sweet and creative.  
  
He was kind and uplifting.  
  
He was patient and strong.  
  
 _He was driving her up the fucking wall!_

  
  
David was always an early riser, but lately he was up at the crack of dawn researching on her computer trying his best to find a hit on Max’s parents via her strategy. And on top of that, he was up all night either fretting or doing the same thing. Additionally, it was an absolute fucking nightmare to get Max to take his antibiotic. She was talking kicking, punching, screaming, violent descriptions of their murder and obscenities on _multiple_ occasions, and David always went running to her with a bleeding heart _. “He’s just so upset, Gwen!”_

Max insisted he was perfectly recovered and complained they were too big and he’d choke to death before he died of tetanus, so then David proceeded to cut them up for him into little pieces. When Max wasn't satisfied with that, he would even crush them into juice which got chucked across the room the first two times around. He only cooperated when Gwen pointed out that she could just tell the doctor what he did and they would get more, so they could do this all summer if they had to but Max would only accept the juice method. David was delighted with the compromise and she was glad to just have won something with the kid. But despite all of the pushback, he was doing great. No fever, his pain was gone and he’d had no flare ups except maybe a lack of appetite but that was a side effect of the medication. But David's constant radiation of anxiety and Max being continuously provoked was wearing her down; she needed to soften the edge.

  
  
“I’m gonna check on the campers. Or for bears. Or whatever.” she said, putting her book down as she slyly slid her hand between the board and mattress of her bed, finding what she was looking for and slipping them into her pocket. She glanced over at David, who was engrossed in the profiles she had collected so far that could be one of Max’s parents. He barely hummed at her in reply.

  
  
That stung a little. It wasn’t like him to not acknowledge her.

  
  
As she slammed the screen door behind her, she heard him yelp and his tea mug clatter and felt a _little_ bad, but not really. He needed to take a hint to stop obsessing; when Max was ready, they would talk to him and there was nothing he could do but take shit one day at a time before then. Gwen stomped around to the back of the cabin and glanced at him through the window, watching him try to wipe tea off of his shirt front and his lips moving as he said something aloud to himself.

  
  
She rested her hand over her pocket, as she backed up and turned to approach the tree line, ducking behind one of the fragrant evergreens where he wouldn’t be able to see her indulge bad habit. Gwen had been good about breaking it over the course of the last year but sometimes that nagging little voice got the better of her. _Just one won't make you a failure_. “These boys are gonna put me in my grave,” she muttered, putting the cigarette between her teeth as she sparked the lighter and cupped it to the end with her other hand making a windshield. 

  
  
_Oh, sweet irresponsibility, I missed you so_ , she thought as she took a long drag and slowly let it out in curls of gray. Gwen pressed the hand holding it to her forehead and leaned her back against the tree as she tried to think of any way to feel more in control of the situation. She could call her parents, maybe. Ask them what they thought. They were _clingy_ and get much too excited if she actually physically talked to them on the phone but they would possibly have some decent advice. She had been a hellion herself growing up and they did more than alright with her but nobody compared to Max. He was probably born with a tiny bit of chaos as a base element to his construct.

  
  
A rustle over the ground snapped her out of her thoughts and Gwen quickly stood up straight, her eyes searching the trees in the direction of the noise. Her first thought was an actual bear, but David had told her so many times that the predators native to the area wouldn’t come near the Camp. All the noise and activity would startle them long before they were a real concern...yet the image of a cougar’s eyes glinting at her in the dark before it pounced sent chills down her spine. Only the aesthetic parts of nature had grown on her. The rest...she left to her co-counselor to appreciate.

  
  
But he _did_ know what he was talking about, so it had to be a person. “If it’s one of you gremlins, get the hell back into bed!” She called out in the darkness as loud as she dared. The only light she had was the dark orange ember of her cigarette, illuminating an orb around her hand and making the shadows seem all the more dense outside of it...If it wasn't a camper, that thought terrified her more than anything.

  
  
There they were. Glinting eyes in the dark, almost luminescent. Except...they weren’t yellow. They were an electric turquoise green, the pupils like embers as they reflected the only light source between them but they weren't reflective. Only animal eyes reflected in the dark. The sticks crunched softly again, damper under foot, as a familiar little form ventured out in his rumpled pants and camp shirt, his hoody abandoned since he apparently didn't sleep in it. Gwen relaxed her shoulders and her guard as well. “Max. What are you doing up?” she asked. Even he was usually out by this time of night, or at least he stayed in his tent. "It's way past your bedtime."

  
  
Max was just staring her down, his brow furrowed as he glanced between her face and her hand. He was fidgeting his own hands together, idly picking at the corners of his fingertips and cuticles to make his discomfort obvious. “What the hell are _you_ doing?” he shot back, his voice dripping with venom but hushed by the dark.

  
  
Gwen looked at the cigarette in her hand that he was gesturing to, surprised he was focused on it. “Smoking...? Don't you get judgey, Max, and don't change the subject."  
  
  


"Does David know you're out here?"  
  
  
"Yes but he doesn't know you are." she retorted and she began to step towards him, but Max’s eyes widened so far that she could see the whites of his eyes all bright in the dark and he scooted back to keep his distance from her. “H-hey, if you want to get fucking cancer, go ahead but keep it to yourself!” he hissed, pointing a threatening finger at her with a slight tremor in it that she swore she had to be imagining but...Somehow, she didn’t think his issue was with getting sick.

  
  
They stood in silence, Max lingering in place and Gwen awkwardly tapping ash onto the ground while they had their quiet standoff of who would leave first. Finally, she made a decision to do her job. _Right, that’s a thing I have_. “You gotta go back to your tent, Max, it’s way past curfew.”  
  


  
“I will in a bit.”  
  


  
“And why not now?”  
  


  
“Neil snores like a geriatric moose, it was either take a walk or smother him in his sleep.”  
  


  
"I know you can lie better than that, so knock it off. What's really happening?"

  
  
Max crossed his arms tightly, hunching over as he leaned his shoulder against his own tree and kept his head slightly bent down. “It feels too small.” he eventually murmured, turning his back on her to face the seemingly endless expanse of trees beyond them. The layers of shadows, made of swaying branches and spaces between spaces, seeming to draw in anyone who looked at them too long. And all the space someone could want. 

  
  
The vulnerable posture he had took her back to when she visited him for the first time in the hospital, caught in the riptide of a nightmare and crying bitterly like any other ten year old might when they were so deeply hurting and afraid and then trying his best to act like he couldn't possibly feel those things like any other kid would, because he _didn't_. Now she understood it was the only way he could feel brave, because Max wasn't fearless after all but afraid of plenty. So she never told David. She kept it a precious secret between them both so Max could hold on to that bravery and that control over his rickety world and he was trying to hold on to those things by getting out of the tent he didn't feel safe in.

_Shit, I can't send him back..._

  
Gwen lowered her hands to her sides and meandered up to Max, moving slow and quiet to avoid aggravating him. He didn’t move, but shivered a little as the wind picked up and carried a chill up from the cooler, mistier region of the forest below where the forest dropped into an incline along the mountain side. She lowered herself down to her knees at his height and touched his shoulder, raising her other hand to avoid catching the still lit stick on any leaves or something. “If you want to stay at our cabin--” she began sincerely, but she never got to finish it.

  
  
Max slapped her hand and knocked the cigarette to the ground, _"DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME!"_ before he threw himself backwards from her with such desperation, he lost his footing and fell right on his butt. 

  
“Max! Holy shit, calm down!” She’d _never_ heard him scream out like that, nor lash out physically in that manner. Violence and mayhem was one thing, feral defensive panic was a whole other ball game. Maybe cursing and raising her own voice wasn't the best idea but it scared her to see him so frantically not himself. "Hey, hey, it's okay! Come back, you're getting all muddy--"  
  


  
Moving towards him was a mistake. He scrambled backwards from her until his back smacked against a tree and he didn’t have any further to go. Gwen froze in place with her hands hovering uselessly in the air, wishing she could just holding him and that would be enough to settle his fear but that wasn't an option and she had fucked up talking to him, so she just-- stared. Horrified. In silence.

The silenced dragged until Max seemed to realize what he’d done and he got to his feet, his hands and elbows smeared with mud and the fear on his face giving way for unadulterated humiliation. “Stop...stop looking at me like that."

  
  
She couldn’t _not_ , at least not until she heard a screen door creak open and snap shut about fifty feet off. _Shit. David must have heard him_. Gwen stood up and lowered her hand, trying to hide the light as she whispered low, “You can’t keep this shit up, Max, there is definitely _something_ going on with you. You remember what he told you; you don’t _need_ to pretend.”  
  
  
Max looked behind her, the approaching sound of someone’s feet in the grass growing louder. “I’ll go back to my tent. I’ll _stay_ there, just don’t tell him." he joined her in a whisper as well, forgetting about his need to have his own space and dashing forward to grab her arm, shaking it. "Gwen, I’m serious! Don't tell David!"  
  


  
“Max, how can I not? We're fucking worried about you, we just want you to feel-- to be safe! And if you're not...”  
  
  
  
"Why wouldn't I be safe?" Max demanded, as though he had found the clever position in the argument.  
  
  
  
"It's just how you act." It felt futile to try to get through to Max, but she had to try. She had no doubt in her mind now. "Like something is wrong."  
  
  
"You're making a big deal out of nothing!"  
  
  
"No, we aren't. This is part of our jobs and we want to help but you have to start being honest with us!"  
  


  
“I don’t want your help--” he began, before he stuttered and corrected his wording. “I-I mean, I don’t _need_ it. If you tell David, he’ll overreact and do something stupid and just make things worse.”  
  


  
“Make _what_ worse, Max?”  
  


  
She saw him falter, knowing he’d been caught. At what, it wasn’t clear. And when he decided he was done talking and tried to bolt past her, she instinctively grabbed for him, successfully getting him by the shoulders as she tried her best to be gentle as she kept him from fleeing. “Look, I understand, you’re used to not asking for help because you couldn’t get it before, right? And now you’d rather pretend you don’t need it at all because it’s what you’re used to? _Right?!”_

  
He slowly grew still, hunched over, not answering her. Keeping his head down. But she felt he was listening. “But that’s _not_ how it is anymore. If your parents or anyone are hurting you, Max, we can stop them from taking you back but only if you talk to us. If you don’t talk to me, there is pretty much nothing we can do. Whatever you’re afraid of…” Like cigarettes.

  
_Wait_.

  
**_Fuck_ **.

  
She looked down, not seeing the light source but the glow from it, which her eyes followed. She only saw the small flames starting for a minute before she released Max and immediately turned to deal with it. What did she do? Throw dirt over it? David must have told her a hundred times--

  
The light suddenly went out. Gwen was a little confused at first, before she realized someone had just simply stomped a boot down on it. She followed it up the leg and torso to find the face of said person looking at her with alarmed moss-green eyes, before he stooped down and looked under his foot to double check it was out. Her stomach flip flopped as he plucked up the flattened cigarette. She barely felt Max’s shoulder knock her in the arm as he made a break for it, past the two of them and in the direction of his tents as fast as he could go.

  
She couldn’t see David’s face with the light of their cabin windows behind him, only the halo-like outline of his shoulders. He watched Max go over his shoulder. “...Is he okay?” he asked quietly.  
  


  
_Shit._ “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. No, not honestly. He so obviously wasn’t and she’d blown it helping him. “He isn’t hurt.”

  
“Is this yours?”  
  


  
_Shitshitshitshitshit._ She just looked at him dumbly, trying to find anything acceptable to say.  
  


  
“Is it yours?!”  
  


  
Gwen flinched. She’d heard David raise his voice so many times, but almost _never_ to her and _never_ like that. The sheer betrayal and disappointment in it cut through her as cold as ice. She found herself nodding of her own volition. “David, I am so--” she began.

  
Her apology died on her lips before it lived. He had already crunched the cigarette up in a tight, trembling fist and turned his back on her. She couldn’t bring herself to stop him from walking away, but she doubted she could if she tried.

  
Both her boys left her alone in the darkness, the yawning wood continuing to silently grasp at her feet, whispering sweetly for her to venture deeper into it.

  
By the time she did actually tear herself away, she wandered the whole camp, checking on the kids. Normally David’s routine, but now she was paranoid most of them would be out of bed having a thing too. She even stopped to peak in Max’s and Neil’s, and found relief that Max appeared to be in bed with his back turned, curled up in a fetal position under David’s (or was it Max’s now?) family quilt. He likely wasn’t asleep, but at least he was where he was supposed to be.

* * *

  
When she did get back to the counselors cabin, David was sitting on the edge of his bed, his elbows on his knees as he bent over, itching at the old tiny scars along his knuckles. He only ever did that when he was _truly_ upset.  
  
Gwen hesitated at the door, but when he glanced up at her, she couldn’t tear herself away. Neither of them would sleep, and they had to sleep in the same cabin, so she shuffled over to his bed and sat down beside him. The space felt like a chasm, even though it was less than four feet.  
  


  
“You’re supposed to be smart. You _are_ smart,” he said softly. “How could you be smoking? And in the _woods_ , of all places? I didn’t even know you smoked!”  
  


  
_Please, David, not the disappointed voice. You’re killing me._

  
  
“I quit a while ago, it’s just sometimes I have one when I’m really stressed or my medication isn’t...working as well. Maybe once a month, not even every month.” she tried to explain away how bad it was, despite it being really bad. “I started when I was a freshman and it was stupid then and it’s stupid now.”

  
“You could have burnt the camp down.”  
  


  
She winced. There was no denying that. “Yeah, I know, but listen, Max was--”  
  


  
“You could get sick!”

  
Gwen went utterly silent and looked at him. After he finished yelling, he let out a tiny gasp, like he was horrified with himself. David raised one shaking hand to press it hard against his mouth, sucking in a deep breath through the nose but his eyes were shining.

  
Gwen slowly reached over, laying her arm around his shoulders, feeling them quake as he choked down his emotions. She hated it when he did that. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t even thinking about your mom,” she murmured. “But this isn’t like her. You told me she never touched a cigarette.”

  
He lowered his hand, shooting her a sideways look. “Does it matter if it’s genetic or not? You still die early on because you can’t catch your breath anymore. Terminal disease doesn’t care how you got it, it’s all the same because it _kills_ you the same. Gwen, a-all I have is this place, and these kids and _you_. And I am so exhausted with losing things without having a chance to save them."

  
Her heart jumped a little. She couldn’t be _that_ important to him…?   
  
  
Of course not, this was about a heartache that existed long before she was around.

  
David was frantically wiping his hands over his cheeks and rubbing his eyes, like he could force the tears to stop if he just didn’t acknowledge they were falling. “You’re my _best_ friend,” he whispered. 

  
When she had first met David, her impression of him had been much the same as everyone else’s. Insufferably peppy, annoying as hell, likely on drugs or just inhuman. She had focused on the surface for so long, but over time, living in close quarters with him? She began to see the layers.

  
And there were so many.

  
He was a man who genuinely wanted to help everyone he met, and believe in the good things in the world. To keep seeing them through all the smog and selfishness, a man who decided to rebel by being kind and good instead of cynical and uncooperative. And no matter how many times the world tried to beat down his philosophy, he stayed strong and got back up again each time. There was nothing fake about that. And at first, she thought it was mind boggling but then it began to be _inspiring_. She didn’t want to be part of the cynics anymore.

  
And then, she saw the rest of the layers.

  
He helped everyone and anyone, often at the cost of his own self. He bottled things up and a smile was a band aid for everything. He had lost his parents, his childhood best friend, been lied to and manipulated and cheated out of so much. He carried an unimaginable pain of loss and loneliness that she couldn’t fathom the _strength_ it took to lug it around and be who he was while doing so.

  
So when there was the slightest chance that he might lose someone _again_ , he broke down and then he _resented_ himself for doing it.

  
Gwen wriggled her shoes off and gave his back just a slight pat. “It’s two in the morning. You have to go to sleep,” she told him and he grumbled, burying his face in his hands. She would tell him about Max later. She was reeling from seeing him this low; maybe there was more going on, and she had just been the mouse that tipped the boat. But bottom line, David needed his best friend and she was going to make a _fucking effort_.  
  
  
“Lay down.” she told him.  
  


  
“Gwen, I’m really-- _mmph!”_  
  


  
She put her hand on his face and shoved him sideways, then grabbed his legs and began wrestling them onto the bed to get him laying down when he tried to get back up. “Gwen, get off of me! You’re being childish!”

  
“You’re the one throwing a tantrum about going to bed!” she retorted. Over a month of wrangling Nikki and assorted gremlins, she could tuck a grown man into bed. He gave up at one point to pout, as she turned off the light and after a heartbeat, laid down next to him. His disgruntled mumbling stopped shortly after.

  
Gwen gave him two sharp pokes in the back, “David, I am right here. And I’m _going_ to be here. Until you fall asleep, until you wake up and for a long ass fucking time after. I’m not leaving you, okay?”

  
When he didn’t speak for a while, she panicked. Was this too far? Too much effort?

  
She heard shuffling and felt the bed shift as he turned over in the dark, then felt his arm draped around her and drawing her close as he buried his face against her shoulder. “I want you to throw the rest of them away. I know you have more.”  
  


  
“That’s fair. You can help me do it tomorrow morning. Go to sleep, **now** .”

  
He le t her go and they both rolled over, but their backs stayed warmly pressed together. She unconsciously synced her breathing with his and this was...actually kind of nice. It was as comforting for her as it seemed to be for him. She thought it would be a restless night thinking about how she almost started a forest fire in the most obvious way possible, about what had happened with Max and how badly her actions had affected David who was at his limit already. Well, she did think about those things. But only for so long until she was lulled to sleep by the presence of her friend.


	3. Chapter 3

It never mattered how much sleep he got, David always habitually jerked awake at five a.m with an internal clock accurate enough to take blood pressure with. Hazy rays of sunlight were cascading through the window across the top of his desk, illuminating his unfinished work and knickknacks. His body begged to sleep a little longer but he dragged himself upright anyway to start his routine. He vigorously ruffled his fingers through his bed head to loosen where it was flattened down and rubbed his eyes, giving a glance down at his side where Gwen quietly breathed. Her hair had come almost completely loose from her ponytail, was fluffed out wildly, one arm twisted up behind her head and her cheek squished against it as she drooled onto his pillow.   
  
  
_Aw_ , he thought to himself, _she's so...Gwen._

  
  
He gingerly moved his legs over the side of the bed and laid the blanket back over her, deciding to let her sleep in. She was clearly sorry over what happened and in retrospect, he could have handled it better than storming off and then breaking down in tears over things that he could've kept to himself...That wasn’t how he wanted it to go. Gwen was far from a bad friend or person, and he knew she never _meant_ to upset him. If she was regressing to such an awful habit, she had to be stressed. And he didn’t want to make it worse on her. The least he could do was give her a little extra time before she had to get back to the grindstone.

  
  
David also knew there was more to what happened last night but he thought it was better to let the tension die down before he started asking why on earth Max had been awake.   
  
So, he took a brisk shower, threw on some clean clothes and set off to do his usual morning errands whilst tying his bandana around his neck. He raised the flag and wandered the camp full circle until he reached the Mess Hall, just in time to feel hungry enough for breakfast.  
  
  
But as he entered in through the doors, the dim gray morning light not piercing the gloom yet, there was already someone sitting at a table and it wasn't Gwen, Quarter Master or Campbell. _Nobody's ever up this early except me,_ he thought. But didn’t need bright light to see the trademark moppy hair and slouched posture over a cup of coffee he was not supposed to have. He would’ve swapped the store for decaf if he thought he could pull a fast one on Max and Gwen. _One can dream._

  
  
“Hey, Max. Rising with the sun today?” he asked, keeping his voice hushed. It always felt wrong to speak too loudly when the morning larks were just starting up. When Max replied with a lame shrug, he decided to snag two apples from the commissary and plunked down beside him. “Had breakfast?” David asked and offered one to his camper.

  
  
“Not hungry…” Max shoved it away.

  
  
“The anti-biotics can do that. But you gotta eat if you want to--”

  
  
“I swear to god, if you say ‘grow up big and strong’, I’m gonna throw myself into the lake.”

  
  
David did not say grow up big and strong, but he did dare to slide the coffee mug away and replace it with the actual food to make his point clear; no skipping meals. Max didn’t respond violently, but David definitely noticed how he shrank back when his hand brushed the camper’s arm. “Does your skin still hurt?” David asked worriedly, thinking back to the tetanus. All of his symptoms had to be gone, or it was straight back to the doctor to see about a second round of treatment and he wasn't sure Max was up to it. The poor kid was miserable enough already. If he had any residual pain...

  
  
“ _No_ , I just don’t want to be fucking touched. It’s not new information.”

  
  
Max leaned forward on the table as far as he could, half of his face covered by the sleeves of his hoodie as he glared at his barely-breakfast like it had personally offended him. The kid always had slight circles under his eyes but they looked more pronounced than ever and since seeing him up so late and now up so early, that accounted for just a few hours of sleep, meaning Max was running on less than _half_ the sleep a boy his age needed.

  
  
“Did you get in a fight with Gwen last night? You looked pretty upset when you ran off,” David prompted him patiently, leaning forward on the table himself. Not slouching with his chin on it, just his elbows but he wanted to try to engage Max at his level.   
  
  
"Fuck off, I don't know what you're talking about. I was in my tent."   
  
  
"Max, I saw you. Come on, I know _you_ know that I did. What's going on?"

  
  
Max sat up and threw his head back with a dramatic groan before he finally answered, “She was just giving me shit for being out of bed, that’s all.”

  
  
He didn’t want to outright say _I know you’re not telling me everything_ , not unless he wanted Max to click into another defensive mindset and once he did, there was almost nothing to get him out of it. “Max, I came running because I heard you scream. You sounded _scared_. I thought maybe there was an animal or something in the camp.” And that was true, at least at the time.

  
"I don't get scared."  
  
  
David laughed gently, "Is that so? I wish I was like that! Must be nice to be so courageous all the time."  
  
  
"Hmph. I've seen you literally just from your own shadow."  
  
  
"I'll never be a fan of horror movies, that's for sure, kiddo. But that doesn't stop me from living my life." David reassured him cheerfully. "Some people are tough cookies like you and other people are scaredy-cats like me."  
  
  
Max was picking at the wood on the table with his nails, prying up tiny splinters and fidgeting with the divots in its surface. “Do you ever have nightmares?” he asked quietly.  
  
  
 _Nightmares?_ David was taken aback by the sudden question. It didn’t seem like a trap of some kind, just a straight up inquiry. “Sometimes…"

  
  
“I mean real nightmares, not weird dreams you had about broccoli eating you instead of the other way around."  
  
  
"Real nightmares," David confirmed, sensing the serious weight of Max's words. "I know what you mean. Yes, I've had them-- I still have them every once in a while."

  
"What do you do when you have them?"  
  
  
David thought about his answer carefully and turned it over in his mind like he was trying to get an angle on a rubix cube. He wasn't sure why Max was interested but maybe this was his sly way of asking for help...David hoped it was just idle curiosity. If Max could be overtired purely because he was being disobedient, David could worry about one less thing. But on the chance it wasn't just that, he had better give Max real advice. “When I wake up, I look around and take deep breaths and think about what I can see. I do stuff like count how many green things are in my room, you know? So it takes me out of the dream world and puts me back in the real one, where nightmares aren't real."

  
  
“And if that doesn’t work?”

  
  
David watched Max's facial expression for any indication of something. Max's stoic look was more telling than open emotion was; he was obviously trying to seem unaffected. “Max, are you having bad dreams?” He wasn’t going to beat around the bush, and he wasn’t going to let Max do the same. He wanted the kid to start being direct as he felt he could be. He watched Max sit up, but take the front of his hoodie and tug the neck up around his face in a turtle like fashion to physically hide from the question. _He’s nervous_. “Because if you are, you can come wake me up and then you don't have to figure it out by yourself."

“You’d ask me a shit ton of questions if I did."

  
  
“No questions that you would have to answer. And not if you asked me not to." David argued, trying to eliminate any apprehension Max had. He should be able to openly seek comfort from the grown ups in his life, like all the other campers would. "Maybe if you told me what your parents do when you have bad dreams, I could help better?"

  
  
And there went the hood, up over his head. “You know they don’t give a shit.”

  
  
“Okay," his heart sank a little. "Are you sure both of them wouldn't help? What about your mom? You asked for her at the hospital, it sounds like she's who you would go to."

  
  
Max shook his head and faltered on his answer. “I don’t-- I don’t remember that. That doesn’t sound like me.”

  
  
“I know you weren't your normal self then, you don't have to convince me of that...It’s okay if you miss your mom. Lots of kids miss their mom at camp.”

  
  
“I never said I missed her!"  
  
  
"I know, but it's still okay if you do."  
  
  
"Well, I don't." Max spat furiously. "She's the one who ditched me here in the first place! Does that sound like she cares to you?"

  
  
“Maybe she just thought it would be good for you, and hasn’t it been? Just a little bit?” David hoped Max believed that as heartily as he did. But why would Max call out for her, _specifically_ _her_? There had to be _some_ good in their relationship if he wanted her when he was sick and hurting. David needed perspective. “What about your dad?”

  
  
The fury fizzled into a shrunken down cousin of itself called unease. “He-- he’s never really around.” Max spoke slowly, the way someone choosing their words one by one did. "And when he is, he ignores me."

  
  
_Ow. That sounded familiar_. He heard that wounded stutter in Max’s voice and he wanted to reach out and hug him, but he could tell that it wouldn't be the right thing in that moment. But Max had cleared away some of the mystery surrounding his home life. David started to think that Max just asked for her because she was the only option he had.   
  
A hug was too much but he could do a little. With all the caution in the world, David reached over and pulled Max’s hood back down. _Golly, this boy needs to brush his hair_. “If you have another nightmare, I don’t want you wandering in the dark alone, it isn’t safe. But a walk outside _can_ help you feel better, so next time, just come knocking on our cabin. I’ll walk with you...I won't ignore you, Max."

  
  
Max slowly met his eyes and when he finally did, David smiled at him so he could see that he meant it all. “You won’t get pissed and kick me out?” the boy asked.

  
  
All the alarm bells were going off in his ears, telling him that there were so many screwed up reasons for a child to think that but his camper was accepting the offer and David wasn't going to mess it up by pushing Max too far past his boundary. “Never. I’m going to make you some eggs and get your medicine, but you eat that apple while I'm one.”

  
  
Max didn’t answer, but as David headed to the kitchen to rummage up some simple hot food, he did hear the crunch of him biting into the fruit. While the eggs cooked, he made sure to crush up the antibiotic and stir it well into some juice. It was the magical solution to get Max to take it.

  
  
And to his delight, Max had an empty plate not long after his counselor set it down in front of him. “That was the last one,” he told him, as he picked up Max’s dirty dishes. “You’re all done, good job!”

  
  
He assumed Max’s flat grunt meant ‘thank you’. David glanced at his watch; it was getting close to seven, and he figured Gwen would be up any time. “Activities start in an hour, the only thing to do until then is chores. Want to help?”

  
  
“Why would you even ask me that?” Max growled, but he followed David out of the mess hall.  
  


* * *

Max idly prodded at an old scar behind his neck, hidden under the scruffy length of his hair. No coincidence that he kept his locks long enough for it, since he didn't always have a stiff shirt collar to hide the marred skin and his camp shirt and hoody didn't cut it. Whenever he was truly bored or miserable, Max just started finding bumps and imperfections to start picking at. He knew it was a terrible habit and he also knew David might see and scold him for it, which would be _fucking_ annoying.

  
  
But he really didn’t want to be alone that morning and for reasons he would not deign to give formed thought, he’d rather be with David than anyone else on this particular day. He finally shoved his hands into his pocket and quickened his step to catch up with him. “Where are we going?”

  
  
“To the water pump. Once a month, I have to test it.”

  
  
“Like an old-timey one with a crank?”

  
  
“Yep! It’s really only used in the off season when the plumbing is turned off, or as a last resort but it is connected to the same source as everything else we use; it's just manual operation."

  
  
“Bet you five bucks it has lead in it.”

  
  
The pump was way out to the eastern side of the camp, opposite the tents and Max plunked down on a tree stump to watch David get it working. It was kind of neat, to be honest. David put some of the water in a test tube with some kind of paper strip in it, gave it a shake and then took a seat on the grass next to Max. “And now we wait.”

  
  
Max idly swung his feet, kicking the stump with his heels each time and watched the horizon of the lake up ahead, the cinder-corpse of Spooky Island in the center. For a minute, he wondered if that... _affected_ Jasper. Weren’t his remains there? What if they’d been destroyed? Did that have anything to do with it?

  
  
_Last thing you need is to try to break down the logic of ghosts_.

  
  
He looked sideways at David, who was picking through the blades of grass next to where he had set the vial down. He still had never told him about Jasper. At the time, he had been convinced it would crush David and now with Campbell actually maybe turning the corner, he felt even less inclined towards the truth. There was no telling what David would do if he found out Campbell lied about Jasper being picked up by his parents. And what about said parents? Did they still hope their son was alive somewhere? Were they just waiting for him to come home any day?   
  
  
Wait, did Campbell even know that Jasper was dead? What if he just lied because he had no idea what really happened and panicked? That could somehow not be as horrible as knowing and lying anyway--

  
  
Max was ripped out of his contemplation by the most god awful fucking high pitched noise he had ever heard. He snapped around to see David with his hands cupped together, a long blade of grass held up to his mouth between his thumbs. David grinned at him like he thought he was the funniest person in Oregon.

  
  
He immediately reached out and _slapped_ David’s hands as hard as he could. “Are you trying to put me back in the hospital?! God, my fucking ears are bleeding!”

  
  
His counselor laughed it off, and picked another blade of grass, holding it out to him. “Want to try?”

  
  
Max glared at it, before he snatched it from David’s fingers. _I’ll make you regret this. This is a power you should never have granted me, camp man_.

  
  
Admittedly, it was actually kind of fun to learn it and good for passing the time. David called it a grass whistle, and Max was already thinking of waking Neil up with it in a little while, just for the look on his face. As Max took the grass blade away from his lips, he twirled it between his fingers and noticed in the distance out of his peripheral, Gwen was heading into the Mess Hall. He swallowed nervously and slid off the stump to sit on the grass in the shade. It was getting hot now that the sun had been up for a bit. “Did you know Gwen smokes?”  
  


“Not anymore, she doesn’t.”

  
  
“...Ydo ou realize you made that sound _really_ sinister. Like she's dead under your floor boards?"

  
  
David adjusted his bandanna nervously, as he cast a sad, puppy-eyed look over at the cabin just as Gwen disappeared through the door inside. “Gosh, Max, you sure have a...Poe-like imagination. All I meant is that we talked, and she’s quitting for good.”

  
  
“Did you _talk_ or _fight?_ ”

“I could ask you the very same thing, you know.”

  
  
“For the last time, _no_ _thing happened!"_

  
Max cringed. He knew how quickly and desperately he had said it. What was wrong with him lately? It used to be so easy to let everything slide off his back, water off a duck-- _oh my god, I’m using David sayings! I must be going crazy_.   
  
Max dragged his hands down his face in pure exasperation and peeked through his fingers to find what he expected. A very surprised, very concerned David looking at him with big worried eyes. “I just got pissed, okay? I called her out for smoking in the forest. Could’ve killed us all with her cancer stick.”

  
  
He unconsciously reached behind his neck to scratch at the scar again, picking at the uneven surface of the skin. David moved to sit with him in the shade, side by side. Max was just digging the edge of his nails into it, angry with himself for letting Gwen get the better of him. Now she was suspicious and it was going to be even harder to keep this charade up. He could still hear his mother’s words. _“Just follow the rules and it will all be okay._ ** _I promise_ **_.”_

  
  
_Third rule. Don't ever tell anyone what happens at home, no matter what you see, what you hear or what **he** does._

  
  
“Max?” He didn’t see David move closer, or reach an arm around him. This time, he didn’t want to smack it away but he sensed David was keeping it light just in case he wanted to. “You can talk to me about anything, buddy. I really mean it.”

  
_  
_ _No, I can’t!_

  
_  
_The worst part was Max realized he _wanted_ to. He’d had a taste of what it was like away from his parents, with the freedom to go where he wanted, say what he wanted, to be around people with all the open space he could ever want. He had friends for the first time. He wanted to tell David everything, to feed that feeble hope that he thought had been dead and gone so long ago. But he couldn’t and it was torturing him inside to keep silent. Max pulled his knees up to his chest and dropped his head down on them, silent as a grave, unable to come up with any response. No more fibs. He couldn't do it anymore.

  
  
“...Okay, Max. Whatever you need.” David’s hand rubbed up and down his arm soothingly, squeezed him a little closer against his side.

  
  
David didn’t budge until Max leaned away and he immediately let him go, but that was almost a full five minutes later. New record. His counselor stood and helped him up, taking a minute to brush leaves off the back of his shirt. “I’m okay,” Max said quietly. “I’m just tired. I’m...I sleep like shit. I think it’s just the medication.”

  
  
He wasn’t sure if David bought it, but as the boy stepped back from him, his counselor gestured to the tents. “You’re excused from the first half of activities if you want to take a nap. It’ll be good for you.”

  
  
That actually sounded really tempting, but Max shook his head no. “Neil and Nikki would notice…I don’t want them to think there’s something wrong with me. I just want shit to be normal again.”

  
  
“Hey,” David leaned down and gave him a very light poke in the nose. Max swatted at his hand a few times until it was withdrawn. “What’d we agree on? No pretending. Say it back to me.”

  
  
“No pretending…”

  
  
“Good. It’s your choice, Max, do what’s best for you.” David encouraged him, as he packed up the water testing kit and looked at the tube. “There we go. Blue means it’s good. Green means treat it, yellow or pink or red means it isn’t usable.” 

Max twisted and twisted his grass whistle, keeping his gaze low to the ground. “Are there any other chores?”

“A few. Cleaning out the fire pits, cutting more wood, checking the boats are sea worthy, raising the flag...”

“Can I help? And then go lay down after?” He wasn’t sure why he felt inclined to ask David’s permission. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, or maybe he just wanted the direction. “By help, I just mean lurk around giving scathing comments and watching judgmentally.”

“I'd love your supervision, Max. Come on, we’ll start with the boats.” 

  
  


The chores actually weren’t that hard. David showed him how to spot breaches in the boat hulls or warps in the wood, and taught him how to properly tie them off at the dock. Learning knots and other survival stuff got his mind off of his troubles. David showed him how to pull old ashes and cinders from the pits but also how much to leave to create a bank to shelter the coals to keep a new fire going longer. “ _In an emergency, you can use them to keep an ember alive for hours if you don’t have anything to light a fire with._ ”

He even let Max help chop some wood, but David’s woodcutter ax was way too big for him, so he got a little hatchet instead. “Uh, how many weapons do you have?” He asked, tapping the little log on the stump to try and split it through. He kept getting stuck half way.

“Just my survival knife. And multi tool, if you count that. Here, bring it all the way up and then down— you got it! Always swing from the top of your arc and use the gravity to help you."

Once they had enough, David helped Max carry it all to the wood pile and showed him to stack it bark side up in case it rained. By then, Max’s arms were a little shaky. He felt better; productive. But he was ready to go fall face first into his bed for a little while. 

He could hear other campers starting to get up and milk around for the start of the day, and he didn’t want to be seen toted around by David like a puppy. But he did have fun. Being taught one on one about survival stuff and actual useful things had actually caught his interest. _Not_ camping. Survivalism was different, more bad ass. “David?”

“Yep?” His counselor was just putting their equipment away in the maintenance shed. 

“Can I help out tomorrow morning, too?”

He could tell David was surprised when he slowly turned around with his stupid face lighting up. “If you really want to!”

“Okay, don’t get all sappy and shit, I just want an excuse to swing a real weapon around wildly.” 

“That is _not_ what we’re going to be doing.” David chuckled, walking over and clapping a hand on his head to steer him towards his tent. “Go on, get your rest. I’ll wake you for lunch if you aren’t up by then.”

He wasn’t sure he would actually be tired enough to fall asleep. He just figured he would lay there zoned out but when Max flopped down on his bed, he felt the pull of sleep immediately. 

“Uh...Hey. Why were you up early?”

“Because I’ve lost control of my life, Neil, keep up.” 

Max was out cold within a few minutes. Somehow, it was easier to sleep with the sun up and a little more background noise of people around him. 


	4. Chapter 4

This day wasn’t nearly as bad as she thought it would be. Their activities mostly consisted of preparing for a big upcoming nature hike that would take them to a camping site a few miles off, where the kids would pitch tents and make real fires and actual rough it in the woods for a night before going back. She had expected the worst of giving the kids magnesium lighters, but she and David were even more in sync than usual at keeping what passed for order in their world away from the world.

  
  
But all day long, she was keeping Max out of the corner of her eye. David explained that he gave him the first half of the day off to catch up on sleep and she agreed with his choice. She even went to check on Max once, but she only dared to poke a head through his tent entrance. He was sound asleep on his stomach, face down and shoved into his pillow, snoring softly and all tangled up in his two blankets. There was no faking that lack of grace. He was getting proper shut eye and that put her at ease.

  
  
And despite his usual shitty attitude, he wasn’t nearly as disruptive as other campers. He even seemed to enjoy the activities a little bit, and he got a big wolfish grin on his face when he was the first to get his fire going by striking his lighter. And then he went around rating everyone one who would make it in the wild, who would go insane, who would get left behind and who would be food. According to him, only he and Nikki would make it. Nikki seconded that by hunting Space Kid, and it was all regular camper stuff from then on.

  
  
Over all? Good day.

  
  
After a shower, changing into her favorite purple flannels and slippers, she sank into her chair with a cup of hot cocoa to wind down for the night. David was doing his usual final round of checking each and every camper was safe in bed, part of his routine, but nowadays he checked twice. Totally not because of Max.

  
  
She was deep in her thoughts of the night before by the time he returned. Now that Gwen had a moment to herself, she could not get the image of Max lurching himself away from her with that terrible exclamation of utter terror out of her head. She didn’t want to break him down to textbook terms, but she understood a person reacting to a _trigger_ when she saw one. Max had a reason to be afraid of her, he had a reason to scream and run away when she got too close and there was only one new variable that could have caused that. Gwen didn’t want to go there, but hiding from reality wouldn’t change things and it wouldn’t help Max.

  
  
There was no doubt he was neglected at home, but she had been holding out that it was no more than that.

  
  
David greeted her as he reentered the cabin and slipped into the bathroom to change into his own sleepwear, before he joined her in his own chair. “Cocoa,” she muttered, picking up his mug and handing it to him. It was their usual routine; hot drinks, some T.V or chatting and then lights out. It had been his idea to end their day, ever since he learned about her anxiety problems. Sometimes she needed to vent, sometimes she just wanted silence or just company. He gave her any one of those things to help her go to sleep with peace of mind.

  
  
“Thanks, Gwen.” He chirped, sitting cross legged in his chair with his stupid rigid posture. “Did you talk to Max today?”

  
  
“Nah. He really needed the space but you got up early with him, right?”

  
  
“Not exactly. He was in the mess hall when I got there...He was pretty bothered, still wouldn't talk about the other night."

  
  
“He wouldn’t talk to me, either.” Gwen picked up the remote and paused their movie so they could hear each other clearly.  
  
  
Her co-counselor got very quiet and slowly set down his mug, tapping his calloused fingers on the rim to a drumbeat only he knew. She could see he was disturbed, but listening. “You heard him, right? That’s why you came out to check on us.”

  
  
“I thought he was in danger..."

  
  
“I think I scared him, David. I knew he was out of bed for a reason and I tried to tell him he could come stay with us if he wanted, but I got too close and I was still holding the stupid cigarette and he acted like--” she hesitated. There was really only one way to accurately describe his response, how his eyes got so white she saw the whites all around them in the darkness and he trembled like a wet kitten. Gwen tried to swallow the thick lump in her throat, as she felt her eyes burn and the guilt rose up like a bad lunch. “He really thought I was going to _hurt_ him, David...Max was _afraid_ of me."

  
  
David’s chair creaked and he filled her blurry vision as he knelt down in front of her chair as he gently took her by the shoulders. “You know you're Max's favorite, right?” he told her earnestly. She turned her head away. She couldn't bear to look at his sweet face, so confident and helpful when she felt so wretched. “ _Gwen_. You are! He listens to you best and respects you more than anyone. You get him in a way I just _don’t_. You're two of a kind, nothing can change that."

  
  
She just huffed angrily and chewed her lip since he was starting to sound convincing, as he tugged on her hands with a sing-songy “Gweeeen?” that was as adorable as he probably thought it sounded and she cracked. She had to look at him. His twinkling warm green eyes, the oh-so-faint saddle of freckles on his nose that got more pronounced the more sunshine he got, the cheerfully fluffy auburn hair and that sweet smile that could make spring come early. Reassurance was breathed into every feature of him and he just made the knots in her stomach loosen so she could catch her breath again. “Okay. Okay!" Gwen tugged her hands free, trying not to smile as she wiped her eyes and he plunked down on the floor by her chair so he could stay close, like a clingy puppy. "I'm good...Let's focus on Max."  
  
  
"Roger, Captain."  
  
  
"Don't say that."  
  
  
"Roger, Ca--" he grinned and fell backwards with a giggle as she smashed her pillow into his face to shut him up, "I was saying that Max was afraid and had a reason to be, the cigarette. We aren't going to devolve into the implications of that, we're just going to break down what that means for us going forward."  
  
  
David's smile faded and he became serious again, holding the pillow on his lap. She didn't want to make him think about terrible things like that his campers were being hurt by someone but the reality had to set in and stay set. "I know-- _we_ know things aren't good at home...I think he's just too afraid to tell anybody."  
  
  
David’s smile faltered and there was that fear in his eyes, too. “I think you're right...He told me he's been having nightmares this morning."  
  
  
"Still?" Gwen asked, blurting it out unintentionally and David tilted his head. "What do you mean 'still'?"  
  
  
She crossed her legs and looked up at the ceiling with a pained face, not wanting to admit she had been keeping things from him. "Nothing. I just had to wake him up from a few in the hospital but I figured it was a fluke. Fever, medication, all the stress that he was feeling."  
  
  
"Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
  
"Max trusted me not to!"  
  
  
"...okay, that's fair, but it's not a fluke. It has to be bad if he's willing to bring it up to me, of all people, and he was borderline convinced I wouldn't care. He thought we would ignore him if he came asking for help."  
  
  
"Are you surprised he thought that?"  
  
  
"No," David sighed, disappointed to the core. "I wish I could be surprised anymore."  
  
  
"Don't be, because we need to get him to start talking about what the fuck is going on and soon, because there's not a lot of summer left. We can't do jack-shit for him once he's not our contract-bound responsibility anymore and we don't even know where he'd be going but I am not letting him get on that bus to leave in August with the way too high chance of us never fucking seeing him again, David. I can't," her voice broke. "He's a little beast but I..."

  
  
Gwen felt David’s fingers twitch and tighten. He had a spontaneous temper than rarely came out, and she would pay to see it if he ever met _whoever_. It wasn’t common knowledge to anyone but her and people David grew up with, but he was a pacifist by choice. David bent with the wind until he **didn’t** . "I know," he ground out. "I care about him, too, and it'd be the same if it was any of them. I just don't know how I could get him to say a word, Gwen, I can't just wave my hands and magically make all of his fear go away."

  
  
 _Hold the phone_.

  
Gwen felt the bulb light up in her head. David yelped as she suddenly grabbed his hands tight and brought them up closer to look at his scars, which had become much more fader over the years or at least that was what he had said. She needed to workshop this little spark that she had going. “Uhh-- Gwen, I’m feeling a little--”

  
  
“Shush! I have an idea!”

  
  
He shushed, despite how awkward he must have felt. Gwen promptly got out of her seat, marched to David's desk and produced Max's file. A prompt click and scribble and she filled out the blank activities margin on it and turned to face her co counselor, holding it proudly open. "We have to help him feel braver."  
  
  
David stood up and came over, taking the file to read it and looking across the top at her in astonishment. "Martial arts camp?"

  
“We teach him to defend himself! Show him he isn’t helpless, give him the proof to see on his own! And you can teach him!" Gwen poked him in the arm, "Because he isn't ever afraid of you and you know what you're doing, it's perfect. It would even be good bonding and God knows he needs that--"  
  
David had tucked the file against his chest and was fidgeting his hands nervously. Then he took his thumb and pushed it against the top of one of his fingers on the other hand, causing a cringe inducing pop from the knuckle than made her wince. She hated it when he cracked his knuckles but he only did it when he was truly anxious and once he started, he had to do everyone of them including the thumbs-- "Ugh, David!"  
  
"Sorry," he quickly put a hand in his pocket to stop himself. "Sorry, sorry. I know it's gross."  
  
  
"They sound like fricking bubblewrap."  
  
  
"Yeah, that's what happens when you basically destroy them for four or five years straight." he shrugged, his tone uncharacteristically dry. "Gwen, it wasn't a hobby. Boxing and martial arts are real combat training, I wasn't put in those classes because I thought it'd be fun. I got put in there half as a punishment and half as a rehabilitation thing."  
  
  
"You told me it had been good for you," Gwen didn't like hearing him so dire about himself. "That you enjoyed doing it."  
  
  
"For the wrong reasons," David patiently put the file away, his answer very cryptic. "It's a good idea, Gwen, I just don’t want him to get an idea of me that isn’t _really_ me. And if he does want to learn, the best way is to spar. What if he can't handle that?"

  
  
“He gave Daniel a concussion with a full sized acoustic guitar.”

  
  
David opened his mouth to say something, then closed it with a pause. “...Good point. But you'd have to get up earlier and cover the chores, he’s not going to want to do it during activity hours and I’m not having him up past curfew.”

  
  
“I got you covered. And you're going to be doing it to help a kid, how could you not be the best you? It's going to be fine, David."  
  
  
  
He grumbled quietly, making a whining noise of uncertainty until he finally gave in and nodded. "We'll try it. But I don't want to talk about it anymore right now."

  
  
They resumed their routine, settling in their chairs with snacks and drinks, watching one of Gwen’s shows in comfortable silence. She had gotten The Good Place, which she knew David would love and she had been right so far. They didn’t have the t.v turned up very loud, so she could hear the nocturnal ambience outside of their cabin and there were tiny dots of fireflies here and there. Gwen drew her legs up into the chair and opted to close her eyes. Just for a minute. She felt more at peace with things, now that they had made a plan moving forward to help Max. Plans always kept the panic at bay.

* * *

  
  
About an hour into their nightly binging, David went to ask Gwen a question about something but noticed she was fast asleep in her chair. He wanted to be frustrated with having to revisit a part of his past he had literally shoved in a box in a cob-webby corner, but he couldn’t be frustrated with her. She always knew how to problem solve under pressure, and he had come to depend on that in his friend.

  
So, he got up quietly and turned off the t.v, then pulled back the covers on her bed. She was easy for him to carry, as he carefully slid an arm behind her shoulders and under her knees and lifted her out of the chair slowly. She didn’t make a peep. She just snoozed on.

  
  
He made sure to take off her slippers for her and pull her blanket up to her shoulders before he turned off the lights and went to bed himself.

  
  
The next morning, he was amazed to find Gwen was up before he was, lacing up her boots to head out and get started on chores. Before he could even say good morning, she smiled at him sheepishly, big enough to show that one dimple in her right cheek. “You know I’m not one of the kids, right? You didn’t need to tuck me in, weirdo.”

  
  
“You looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to ruin it.” he yawned, getting up and starting to make his bed.

  
  
“Today’s gonna go good, I can feel it. I’m going to get started on chores and shit, I’ll meet up with you later, okay? And I’ll let Max know where to find you.”

  
  
He watched her leave with a bounce in her step and he felt a touch of pride at how energetic she seemed to be. It was a change to see Gwen optimistic, but it was infectious. He went about his own morning with a smile, even as he hauled a punching bag held together by duct tape from the activity shed and hung it from a tree a ways off from camp.

  
  
He had ditched the vest and bandana for a bit, and his smile faded into nothing as he leaned against the tree as he wrapped his hands. It was still muscle memory, after all this time and it brought a bit of relief to the stiffness in his hands he forgot was there. It was chronic, so he barely noticed it anymore. _Maybe I should start wearing those support braces again,_ he thought, _but the kids would ask about it..._

  
  
David looked up at the sound of twigs and leaves pressed underfoot to see Max trekking slowly up to him, his expression growing more and more suspicious until he stepped about ten feet away. “The fuck is _this_?”

  
  
“Your new activity!” David tried to keep his voice upbeat and took out an extra roll of wrapping. “You may want to hang your hoodie up, you’ll have an easier time without it."

  
  
“I thought we were gonna do chores?” Max obeyed, wrestling his hoodie over his head and depositing it with David’s vest. Maybe he was too surprised or even curious to argue.

  
  
“Gwen’s got it. C’mere, I’ll show you how to do this.” David knelt down and waited for Max to come up to him. It was like coaxing a shy animal, but finally Max held out his own smaller, darkly colored palms. “So you start with a loop like this and put it over your thumb. Then you pull it over the back of your hand. Always the back, otherwise the wrapping can pull your hand in the closed motion and that’s no good. I made that mistake once,” he explained as he made sure Max’s hands were securely and properly protected. It wasn’t just about avoiding tearing skin, it was also about supporting the bones and joints to avoid injury. “Wiggle your fingers, feel okay?”

  
  
“Kind of tight,” Max admitted, still bewildered.

  
  
“A little tight is good. Have you ever boxed?”

  
  
“Have you?”

  
  
“Sleepy Peak High mixed martial arts team champion for three years running.” David replied, his voice completely flat no matter how much pep he tried to sprinkle on to it.

  
"You? Martial arts?" Max scoffed, "I don't believe it."  
  
  
"Well, I am pretty much retired, I only do it for exercise now. I have fou--" he corrected himself, " _Competed_ since graduation."  
  
  
Max kept testing his fingers, getting used to the feeling of the wraps and still looking unsure of them but he wasn't tearing them off and walking away. "You don't sound that proud, David."

  
Kids were perceptive, and Max doubly so. David stood back to stretch his arms out a bit, not wanting to dampen the situation. This was meant to be encouraging. “Well, I liked playing music better than punching and kicking. Either would get me a scholarship and I picked music.”

  
"No wonder you kicked Jacob's ass so easily..."  
  
  
Oh, God, I forgot about that. His face burned with mortification, what a terrible example. "Martial arts should only be for defense."  
  
  
"Uh huh."  
  
  
"I mean it, I shouldn't have done that. That's part of why I quit," he was choosing his words so carefully to avoid making this turn into storytime about himself. This was for Max and it would stay that way. "Because of my temper."

  
  
“What’s the fucking point of this? If this is another lame ass attempt to find me ‘the activity’--”

  
  
“I wasn't done talking,” David cut him off, not meaning to but he was serious. And Max had to take this seriously, and he could see the shift in his tone got Max to stand ramrod straight in surprise. “I may not have liked it, but there were a lot of times in my life when it helped keep me safe. That’s why I’m teaching you. If anything happens, if someone tries to hurt you, you’re going to know what to do now. This is for self defense _only_ , do you understand?”

  
  
“Y-yeah,” he stammered and David felt a little guilty. He didn’t want to be strict. He didn’t want to sound like his grandfather. “I understand, David. Shit.”

  
  
“Okay,” the counselor tried to relax and reached out, giving Max’s cheek a playful bump with his knuckles. “You’re gonna do great. Show me your fighting stance.”

  
  
“I don’t know--”

  
  
“It’s okay, just use your instincts. It’s more natural than you’d think.”

  
  
They spent an hour training. Basic stretches, stances and movement. He adjusted Max to hold his guard-arm closer to his eyes and his punching arm either by belt-level or up near his chin. _“It depends on how you’re punching, but we’ll get into that later. Let’s just stick with the chin for now, it’s best for a quick jab.”_

 _  
_  
Max seemed pretty nervous at first, but over time, he seemed to actually become focused. At the end, he let him throw a few punches and held the bag for him. “Don’t just throw your arm. All your power shifts from one side of your body forward. From your back foot--”

  
  
He watched Max’s features scrunch up in focus as he rocked back just a bit and then threw all of his weight behind a proper right hook and David actually braced himself a little at the impact. “Jump back!”

  
  
Max did as he was told, hopping from the front of his feet a short distance away. In a real fight, he would’ve avoided a counter-attack. David let the bag go and knelt down in front of him. “How was that?” Max asked, huffing as he caught his breath. Maybe he pushed him a little hard but it wasn't like Max was that into the physical education aspect of camp, so maybe it was for the better.

  
  
“Amazing!” David smiled, a real smile, purely formed of pride. It was the most Max had listened to him in such a long time and the most effort he'd seen, too. He moved Max arms length away by the shoulders, “I’m going to teach you a self-defense move before we wrap it up, okay? I’ll show you it first, and then you try it.”

  
  
"Ugh. Do you have to...I-I think I'm fine without it."

  
  
“I won’t hurt you, I promise. Grab my wrist...Go on, it’s okay.” Max had no problem being violent with the past but now he seemed completely on edge. When he did, David made sure to be gentle. “So your hand that’s grappled, you _yank_ it straight up like this and twist your other shoulder towards your attacker. Then hard as you can, you jam your elbow into their ribs.” He made the gesture and he felt Max flinch as his elbow stopped just short of hitting him. “Got it?”

  
  
The boy nodded silently and he let David’s wrist go. “Let me try.”

  
  
“Sure. You can actually hit me, I’ll be okay.”

  
  
They did it a few times, and he worked on Max’s hesitation. The trick was to pull his held arm high up with as much speed and strength as he could and not hesitate on the elbow strike. The first few, David barely felt.

  
  
The last one, he got the wind knocked out of him a little and he knew he would have a bruise the next day the same size as a little ten year old's elbow. Max stepped back, a tiny smile starting in his face, holding his hands up instinctively and looking ready to go again. “And then you do what?” David asked, ignoring the pain. _Ribs are the worst_. He had to test Max on this part. He had to ram this lesson home on day one.

  
  
“Uh...Punch them? Nose, right?”

  
  
“Wrong. You run.”

  
  
Max looked at him incredulously and made a vague gesture with his hand meant to be some kind of strike. “But I could--”

  
  
“You _run_.” David told him again, his voice sharper this time. “If it’s Daniel, if it’s a kidnapper, if it’s _anyone_ , you run away and you make a scene and yell as loud as you can for help. I know that you've won fights before," David gently lowered Max's hands for him and nudged him closer so he could start undoing his hand wraps for him. "Because you were smart but it's also because you were lucky. You could improvise a weapon, use your surroundings to your advantage but that's almost never how its going to be. One day, it will just be you and you'll still be a small kid trying to protect yourself against someone bigger and stronger and if you're fighting to beat them instead of fighting to get away safe, you won't win, Max."

  
  
He saw Max grit his teeth in furious silence, even if he didn't say anything to all of that. He knew he would be upset, but it was the truth. No illusions. “But you would certainly leave them with something to remember you by.” he added encouragingly. “If we keep doing this every morning, you’ll go home like a real Rocky.”

  
  
“Who?”

  
  
“It's an old movie. Rocky never quit is the point. You’d be able to protect yourself, you know?"

  
  
He saw the realization click for Max and the utterly murderous look of _how fucking dare you?_ The kid gave him was honestly just what he expected. “I hope you never have to, though.” David added quietly. “But now you see you’re capable just in case.”

  
  
“What if they’re too big for me to hit them in the ribs? Ever think about that?” Max challenged him, trying to poke a hole in this plan. And David was ready for that. “Meet me here at the same time tomorrow and I’ll teach you.”

  
Max started to march away into the trees, back to camp but he slowed his feet to a stop. “Do you really think that?”

  
  
“Think what?”

  
  
“That-- that I could protect myself. That I’d be good enough.”

  
  
The doubt in Max’s voice was all the confirmation he needed. David didn’t doubt it now and he felt his blood pumping in his ears, almost deafening him to his own voice that was absolutely alien with how calm and gentle it was. “Of course, bud. Don’t forget your hoody.”

  
  
He picked it up and rolled up the torso, just following instincts. All the campers and students who he had helped put coats and scarves on over the years, it was second nature. But Max actually went up to him and held his arms up, letting David slide it on and help him put his arms through the sleeves. _It’s a size too small_. He was just fixing the hood that had become twisted up when something caught his eye as his finger brushed one thick curl to the side.

  
  
There, he could see a little bit down the back of Max’s shirt. A circular, discolored circle of flesh at the top of and just to the left of his spine where his hair always covered it. There was no mistaking it. It was a burn scar.

  
  
It took _every fiber_ of his being to not react. To not pull him in for a hug, to not say something about it, to completely lose his mind that very second about it. “You should go shower, too, so you're not too sore.” he said calmly, pushing Max towards camp by his shoulder. “Make sure to eat before you come train tomorrow.”

  
  
Whether or not Max said anything as he ran off to join his friends in the mess hall, David had no idea. He couldn’t hear him over the pounding of his adrenaline. He balled his fists up so tight, the joints cracked and he might have drawn blood if they hadn’t still been wrapped against his nails _gouging_ into his palms. _They burned him_.

  
  
David rounded on the bag and threw his knuckles into it with every ounce of power he had, the vibrations rattling up his arm and slamming into his shoulder with a pang but he didn't care about that.   
  
  
  
_They burned their son._  
  
  
He threw his other hand, then the other, again and again back and forth with his vision narrowing down to a single blood red pin point of focus on destroying the thing in front of him, blow after blow tearing into its surface until he heard the _rrrrrrip!_ and his fist swung at empty air because the bag was on the ground.  
  
  
 _They burned Max! Fucking monsters! Animals! Evil pieces of shit, they hurt a defenseless little kid, I'll make them regret it, I'll--  
  
  
_ He was kicking it now, because he still hadn't worked out his rage that had been building and building with a volcanic like effect. He only stopped when he physically couldn't anymore and he sank to the forest floor, panting raggedly as he weakly planted his foot against the bag and pushed it away across the dirt. David laid backwards and covered his face in his hands, sucking in a guilt ridden sob because it didn't feel right for him to cry about it. Had Max ever cried about it? He probably had, David just had never been there to see it.   
  
  
There was so much he didn't see until it was glaring at him. As the adrenaline died down, the haunting signs that he didn't connect together until that very moment started to harass him. And because he hadn't, did they have enough time to make this right?   
  
  
_I don't know if anything could ever make it right,_ he thought miserably.   
  
  
He laid there for God knew how long until he dragged himself upright and wiped the dirt off his jeans. He stood up, picked up the bag and set off to the tool shed to grab some duct tape to fix the whole he'd made. _I'll **try** to make it right_.


	5. Chapter 5

Every morning for a few days, Max dragged himself out of bed at the crack of dawn. He ate a quiet, early breakfast with David, who had been less of his optimistic self of late. Not depressed or anything, just more down to earth. While a break was nice, it concerned Max a little bit. He borderline missed the counselor he had come to know. Not really the whole endless sunshine and rainbows he spewed, but a David who wasn’t constantly suspicious and waiting for Max to confirm or deny something. Why else would he have decided to teach him self defense?

  
Despite how he felt like he was on the edge of something, Max sort of _loved_ it. It was something he could take seriously and put real effort into, and David did have a point. Maybe if he’d known this stuff, shit like getting kidnapped by Woodscouts wouldn’t happen to him so easily. And neither would...other things. 

On the other hand, it was kind of unnerving how much David knew about fighting. Max didn't know everything about him after all and it was impossible to picture, no matter the proof. But David seemed really gung-ho about making sure Max retained this stuff, and it was progressing to actual sparring. Their current project was making sure Max didn’t freeze up if someone took a swing at him.

  
David never _truly_ hit him. Max knew he wouldn’t do that. It was light contact, so if he blocked or avoided it, it simulated a real fight and made practice the most effective. But that didn’t stop that reaction of his muscles seizing up as someone bigger and stronger than him made a move to crack him in the face. He was more motivated to appear like he wasn’t _freaking out_ the entire time to avoid confirming any suspicions than he was to learn and enjoy it. He resented the fear response that had obviously been ingrained into his body and even now it held power over him. He didn’t want it to take over.

  
Although, it was still incredibly satisfying to beat on an inanimate object until his energy was spent. Or David. Healthy outlet and all that bullshit, blah blah blah.

  
His counselor let him wrap his hands himself today, but David made sure to double check and adjust them, fussing quietly to himself. Some things never change. “Today’s gonna be a little different, are you ready?” he asked him.

  
“Do I get to kick you now?” Max asked hopefully and David let him go. “Ha, no, but we’ll work on that soon. No hitting today, just escaping grapples.”

The hair stood up on the back of his neck. “What, uh-- what's that mean, exactly?"

  
David responded by grabbed him by the collar, spinning him around and locking his arms around Max, pinning him against his chest and the boys arms to his side. Max's heart rocketed into his throat and he screamed, _“What the_ ** _fuck_ **, David?!”

  
“Stay calm, you’re okay.” 

  
“Fuck you, David! I’ll fucking break your god damn arms! You son of a bitch!”  
  
Max kept trying to kick backwards and his heel connected with shin and stomped toes a few times, but David simply didn’t budge. He was like a stone pillar. Finally, Max gave up, having worn himself out with his tantrum. _This is fucking humiliating._ This must have been the equivalent effort to scruffing a cat for David. “Sometimes, you get grabbed before you even know what's going on and you can't hit them to get away and you have no leverage to pull yourself free."

  
“So at this point, I would be in the back of a fucking van?”

  
“You can get out of this, Max, just think. You can’t hit me or break away _forward_ , what else is there? Use your instincts, I believe in you.”

  
Honestly, he was having trouble breathing normally and hoping David couldn’t feel how _fast_ his heart was going with panic. That was too familiar. _He didn’t like it_. He’d rather be back in bed right now sleeping off his anxiety, but David expected him to figure this out. He could tap out at any time if it was too much and he was tempted to use it for once, but a bigger part of him didn’t want to prove David wrong for having faith in him. Something urged him not to quit.

  
He tried pushing back against him a few times to see if he could manage a good hard shove and when that didn’t work, he just tried twisting and squirming to wear the grip down. David was unbelievably strong, so that wasn't going to happen either. _Not back, so…_

_Oh my god. I get it._

  
Max took a breath and at the same time, he shoved his arms up against David’s to get a little extra assistance as he let his weight drop to the ground, as he twisted to the side as hard as he could like a cork popping out of a bottle. It yielded just enough space that he could slip away and-- _there! Free!_

  
He shoved down the urge to kick David in the knee and followed that stupid advice of just running straight forward to the tree ahead before stopping. What he had just done didn’t really sink in for a minute. He turned around to see David beaming at him, holding his arms open to display they were empty and he was, indeed, free. Max laughed in disbelief, “It worked? Holy shit. I mean, of course it worked! I did it! Ha!”

  
As David approached him and Max just excitedly punched him a few times in the side and stomach, his counselor laughing and lazily blocking what were probably just mosquito bites to him. “Okay, okay! That was really good."

  
“That was awesome. I got away. I actually--” his fast pulse was going with happy adrenaline now. He might actually stand a chance. Knowing that the next time someone tried to throw him into a room and lock him in, he knew how to break away and run for it.

  
_But...where would I run?_

  
And just like that, the temporary victory died. 

It _still_ didn’t matter. Locked doors, locked windows, no phone, no computer. In the end, they would just catch him again, just like Mommy always said. He had asked her once if they could run away like when he was a baby and she told him there was nowhere to go. They were safest trying to be good. Fighting back only made Father angrier and it wasn’t worth it to try. He spent all this time building himself up and trying to make David proud but it was a god damn waste.

_I’m so fucking stupid. There’s nowhere to go. No one to call for help. I’m fucking trapped no matter how hard I fight! All it’s going to do is piss him off and then Father will_ **_never_ ** _let go back to school or outside and Mom is going to get hurt because of me again—_

  
“Max!”

  
David must have been talking to him, but he had been completely zoned out and didn't hear a word. _Oh, shit, not again_. “What?” he asked irritably, trying not to appear as despairing as he felt but it didn’t change how David was looking at him. Brow furrowed, lips pressed in a thin worried line, trying to get him to make eye contact with him as if that would yield any helpful insight. “Where’d you go, buddy?” his counselor asked. “Are you alright? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  
“No. Stop being so needy.” Then he tried to put a hand on his shoulder and Max jerked himself back, unconsciously using a movement he had learned two days ago. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

  
“What-- _why?_ I thought you were having fun. You’ve worked so hard and done so well!”

  
“Yeah, and for what? It’s not like it’s going to help. If some pedo tries to lure me into a car, I’m still fucking barely sixty pounds and obviously if _you_ could get the jump on me, anyone else can.”

  
“You’re only sixty--?”

  
“ _Oh my god, David,_ why can’t you just stop this shit already?! When summer ends, I’m going home and you’ll _never_ see me again and I’ll stop being your problem. Stop trying to impart some kind of lasting lesson to remember you by, because I don’t give a shit about it or _you!_ ” 

His voice got steadily louder until he was full on shouting, waving his hands, raving. A famous Max Rant, one for the books. He wasn’t even truly angry at David, he was just **angry.** “You haven’t changed at all! You still have this fairy tale idea that any of this matters, that you can fix me.”

  
David’s face, at first shocked and alarmed, hardened with fierce indignation. “I do **not** think you need to be fixed.” 

“What do you want, a cookie? Point one for David! All of this is going to end. And when it does, you’ll move on with your life and forget I ever fucking existed and next summer, I won’t be here but new kids will be and you’ll be better fucking off because none of them will be me. I’m not some charity cause for you to grab onto to fix your broken heart _because you don’t have a family to give a damn about you either, David!_ ”

  
The last bit as an accident. He knew he went too far. He didn’t want to be cruel...to be like _him_. He just didn’t want David to waste his time on a hopeless cause.

  
Max caught his breath and waited in silence for David to tell him off, to storm away, to give up. _Please. Please just give up. I’m not fucking worth it_. _I’m so tired,_ he begged inside. 

  
But instead, David just kneeled down in front of him, face to face with his camper and took him by the wrist. Max tried to yank himself away, but just like at the hospital, just like now, David was stronger than him and he wasn’t letting him go. “You don’t know this, because you were sleeping when I said it. But when I took you to the hospital, Max, I stayed with you all night. I talked to you, I sang to you, I watched over you and I made you a promise.”

  
_What the fuck is this he going on about n--_

  
  
“I promised that come hell or high water, I would always take care of you. I promised to _always_ care.”

Max's chest felt so tight that he could barely get a whole breath in, wishing he could just start screaming until it all went away. The crushing guilt of being who he was, of daring to let David go this far because he selfishly wanted someone to give a damn when it was all pointless but he couldn't take any of it anymore. He was only ten years old but his life already felt so long and unbearable, too poisonous for someone like David to be a part of it. "Shut up! You don’t fucking mean it!” Max spat, twisting his arm to get away but when David let him go unexpectedly, he realized he had no intention of running off this time. 

  
“My dad made me the same promise, Max. And do you know what he did?”

  
He didn’t answer. He tried his best to glare daggers at David, but it was crumbling fast. When David didn’t react to his outburst, it seemed to just take all the wind out of his sails.

  
“He left."  
  
  
David's voice was so light and simplistic that it was like he said a random word. Apple would have had the same weight. Max looked up at him, trying to find some sign that it was hurting but he was calm and serene, utterly stalwart. "I was so little that I don't think any memories I have of him are real. My mother got sick and he gave up and he ran. He left us. But it's okay, because he wasn't our whole world, we had other family. Someone else made that promise to me again and I didn't believe her for so long, but she waited. I fought her, I screamed at her, I ran way from home but she never, ever gave up on me. I can trust people's promises again because of her, because she gave that back to me and Max, I am _so sorry_ that I don’t always know what you need and I am so sorry that people have hurt you so much that you just expect it of them. But I will _never_ be one of those people. I am never going to give up and I am never going to forget you or replace you or break my promises."

  
_I will never give up._

Max thought he was going to be sick. He really did. A full blown wave of nausea hit him and send his head spinning, and he held his stomach, fearing he was going to lose his breakfast all over the forest floor. He didn’t know whether to retch or to cry. “Why?" He choked out. "I’m the fucking worst, David. I’m a bad kid, a _mistake_. All I do is—“

  
“You are _not_ a mistake! Who told you that? Your parents?” David exclaimed, horrified. 

  
Max was beginning to hyperventilate. He couldn’t breathe. His throat and chest hurt, and he felt like there wasn’t enough air and he was desperately trying to find some. 

He was so sick of feeling like he couldn’t think for himself, with the **rules** and their words poisoning his mind against **himself** and **everyone** and **everything** . Part of him believed it when David told him he wasn’t a bad kid. He was worth caring about. But it was overpowered by the voice that was screaming louder, always there, always wearing him down. _If his own parents didn’t want him, nobody would._ Why would Father punish him for being alive if there wasn’t something fundamentally _wrong_ with him?

But Max didn’t want to go back.

He wanted to stay with the people who tucked them into their own beds when he was sick, he wanted to be told they were proud when he had tried his best and he wanted to feel wanted.

  
He didn’t want to go back to locked doors and a stomach that was half full some of the time _at best_ and begging his mom for help even though he knew she would turn away because his father had already broken her a long time ago. He had wrung every last ounce of life out of her without actually killing her and he knew that would be him one day, no matter how he raged against his own dying light. He would do anything to escape that.

  
_Just tell him! Just fucking tell him, stop being a coward! They aren’t even here, they can’t do_ **_anything_ ** _to you!_

  
“David, I really, really don’t want to do this anymore.” he said hoarsely. “Please. I don’t need it, I really don’t. You believe me, right? David? I can’t breathe, I need to go back to bed, I can’t _breathe…_ ”  
  
  
He could see in David’s eyes that he didn’t but his voice wavered and he could feel his own cheeks were wet. He kept asking him over and over again if he believed him and he knew he sounded like a crazy person, repeating a mantra when he barely had air in his lungs to speak. He didn’t even stop as David reached and put his arms around him, stroking his fingers through his hair and gently untangling it little by little. He heard him start to gently hum and sing, but the words didn’t really register to Max until his breathing evened back out and he stopped mumbling robotically.

  
_“And I know it makes you nervous,_   
_But I promise you it’s worth it._   
_To show them everything you kept inside_   
_Don’t hide…_   
_Too shy to say, but I hope you stay,_   
_Don’t hide away,_   
_Come out and play. ”_

  
He barely felt David’s thumb wipe away his tears and then cup his head, gently passing over his hair once again in a soothing motion. Max gave in to the urge to close his eyes and bask in this comfort he had been denied forever.

  
“ _Look up out of your window,_  
 _See snow, don’t let it in though_  
 _Leave home, feel the wind blow_  
 _‘Cause it’s colder here inside in silence._  
 _You don’t have to keep it quiet._  
 _And I know it makes you nervous but I promise you it’s worth it… ”_

  
  
“David?” he whispered.

  
  
“Yes?”

  
  
“If-- If something happened...after camp, I’m not saying anything will happen, but if it did and I called you, what would you do?”

  
“If you needed me to, I’d drive straight to Portland to get you. And so would Gwen. She would stand in a hurricane for you, kiddo.”

  
“You don’t even know where in Portland I _live_ , dumbass.” He retorted with a hiccup at the tail end of his sentence.

  
David laughed and Max managed a very tired, very strained smile, as he rested his head against his counselor’s chest and tried not to spiral again. He hadn’t had a real breakdown like that since before leaving home. “I mean it, though, Max. Everything I said. But...it would help a lot if you talked to me.”

  
_Aw, fuck._ “I want to." he winced at how whimpery and pathetic he sounded. "It's not that easy, though, and you ask me like it's easy but I--"

  
He began to raise his voice again as he ran the danger of going over the edge again into a meltdown but David continued to comb his fingers through his messy black hair and it was literally like a magic trick. Right away, Max felt less overwhelmed. “What about questions that are just yes or no answers? After a little while, we can try something else.”

  
Max finally pulled himself away from David’s arms, sitting in front of him with his head down as he sniffled and rubbed his eyes hard. _Get it together, loser_. “I can _try_ that.” he answered dejectedly.

  
He watched as David unwrapped their hands, since training was clearly over and he accepted the bottle of water his counselor gave him. He remembered Gwen telling him that crying a lot dehydrated a person, and it was important to drink water after to feel better. At the moment, he _missed_ her. He had barely spoken to her in days and he could see her trying her best to give him space while being simultaneously supportive and he felt guilty for shutting her out.

  
“You can ask,” he said when he felt ready, before he lost his nerve again.


	6. Chapter 6

It was a half hour before the rest of the campers were up, and Gwen had really gotten the hang of the morning chores. Whenever she finished early, she grabbed a snack and met her boys at their training area, usually just to watch proudly as Max tried his best to give David internal bleeding. _Give ‘em hell, you ferocious little wolverine_.

  
  
But today, she didn’t hear David giving instructions or Max’s little effort noises. She heard them talking quietly, the air around them deathly still out of respect for the seriousness of their conversation. Gwen made sure to tread lightly and lingered between the trees to listen.

  
  
“Does your dad smoke?” David asked gently.  
  


“Yes.”  
  


  
“Does your mom?”  
  


  
Hesitation. “No?”  
  


  
“Does she do anything else _like_ smoking?”  
  


  
“Yes.”  
  


  
“Do you want to tell me what?”  
  


  
_“No!”_ _  
  
_

  
“Do you go to school?”  
  


  
“No.”  
  


  
“Are you homeschooled?”  
  


  
“Kind of? Shit-- wait, that wasn’t yes or no.”  
  


  
“It’s okay, you can answer how you want. Whatever comes naturally.”  
  


  
“This is fucking stupid." Max dropped his head into his hands and raked his fingers through his hair so roughly, David reached over to stop him with a panicked expression. "I should be able to do this simple thing without falling apart! _God dammit!_ ”  
  


  
Gwen peeked around the tree, seeing them sitting cross legged across from each other as David spoke to him quietly while he held Max by his scrawny shoulders, trying to keep the kid from completely shutting down. She decided it was time to intervene and stepped into the clearing.  
  


  
Max lifted his head for a second and his eyes got wide when he saw her, and he immediately put it down again. David touched his back for a second in reassurance, before he got up and headed over to her so they didn't have to talk right over Max's head. “Hey,” he whispered, stopping her by the arm before she got too close to him. “We made a system.”  
  


  
“Is he okay?” she asked fervently. Seeing Max readily letting David touch him had her thrown.  
  


  
“He’s being pretty hard on himself, but he _wants_ to talk about home. I honestly think he’s making progress. I just wish it wasn’t so _exhausting_ for him.”

  
_Thank God,_ she thought, _he's talking_. "It was always going to be unpleasant, David. Think he could take a break?”  
  


  
“Um,” David looked back at Max, who perked up with a nervous expression when he saw that. There was no way he didn’t know they were talking about him. “I don’t think he’s up for a regular camp day, Gwen.”  
  


  
“What if I just hung out with him at the counselors cabin? You shouldn’t sit out today, campers are starting to pick up on you being gone more often and Max doesn’t need to be connected to it.”  
  
  
They discussed it for a while, but in the end, they decided to risk isolating Max for a day. His nerves were clearly shot, and they didn’t want to risk him going into another episode, now that he clearly experienced them. By David’s description, she was positive they were panic attacks.  
  


  
Their conversation trailed off as Max picked up his hoodie and shuffled over to them, shooting them each a judgmental look. “ _So?”_  
  


  
“Congrats, kid, you’re with me today. Junk food and movies.”  
  


  
“For real?” 

  
  


Did his face just light up? She was just seeing shit. “Yeah, even some of the scary British stuff.”  
  


  
“Hey, I did not say you could--” David began but got shushed by the two of them.  
  


  
Max didn’t exactly seem excited. She could see his face was flushed, his eyes red and puffy and he had a shaky, fatigued look to him. But he put up no resistance to following her back to the counselors cabin (she retrieved his stuff from his tent along the way) and he instantly made himself at home in David’s chair, as usual.  
  


  
At first, he dozed for a while, curled up in his quilt with his bear that he held onto with a death grip. It gave her a warm fuzzy feeling, seeing that he treasured something one of his counselors had given to him and it actually brought him comfort. 

  
  


The last few days, David had told her his confirmed suspicions, how he had accidentally seen a cigarette burn scar on Max’s back. There was no denying it now, his fears, his erratic behavior as they got closer and closer to the truth. Ninety percent of his aggressive tendencies were probably just desperate, impulsive defense mechanisms he had to come up with on the spot when getting to camp because he’d never been given any tools in their place.  
  


  
Gwen made a quick trip to grab some popsicles from the commissary and by the time she got back, Max was up and had made a mess on the floor rifling through what they had available to watch. “Ah ha, he rises. Feel better?”  
  


  
He grunted in reply but stuck his hand out. She placed the popsicle in it and he tugged the wrapper off.  
  


  
“Gaah, **fuck** , what is wrong with you?!” She cringed in horror as he proceeded to take a big chomp out of it. He just gave her a closed-mouth grin as he crunched the flavored ice and she could feel her bones shuddering in sympathy. _There’s no way he’s fully human_. Max put in one of the lamer scary movies they had and they settled into their respective seats, with popcorn and gummy candies and whatnot to get them through the day.  
  


  
Honestly, she loved this. Max didn’t seem bothered by her presence and he was joking and talking like he used to. He was turning a corner. When the movie ended and it was time to pick another, she took her chance to talk with him. “I heard you talking to David.”  
  


  
“I don't want to talk about it," Max wrapped the quilt up and over his head, in a little old Russian lady fashion with just his and Mr. Honeynut’s face poking out of the opening. She left him alone that way, understanding it wasn't hostility he said it out of but self preservation. He felt vulnerable and wanted to feel like he was still in control, she understood that. “Gwen?” he peeped after a while.  
  


  
“Max?” she replied in the same tone, taking a page out of her coworkers book and keeping it light.  
  


  
“Has David ever broken a promise to you?”  
  


  
Gwen put the movie case down and looked over her shoulder at him, at those big round green eyes that had a semblance of hope in them. It reminded her of teaching the kids how to build a fire. They had to get the right balance of feeding the spark or it would go out without enough or be smothered by too much. “Not once since I’ve known him."  
  


  
Max slouched in his chair and she made her way over to it. “Scooch.” she ordered.  
  


  
“No way, this is mine.”  
  


  
“Scooch!”  
  


  
He made an intelligible growling noise as she slid him to the side and sat down next to him, linking an arm around his neck in the most gentle, affectionate head lock. He just glared straight ahead; she was sure he was contemplating biting her. “Max, I don’t know why your mom sent you here. And I know you want to hate it, and you have a lot of reasons to but you are here and that gives me a reason to get out of bed.”  
  


  
He was considerably less murder-eyed.

  
“Whatever happened to you, you did _not_ deserve it. And it's going to get easier to talk about over time and if you want to just talk to David, I'm cool with that, I won't be offended. But you do have me if you need me. Alright?"

  
  
“Alright,” he sounded unsure. "I just...I don't get it."  
  


  
"Don't get what?"

  
  
  
"Why I can't do it even when I'm trying to."

  
“That’s not any shortcoming on your part, Max. It’s _normal_ , it affects you in every way and how you deal with it is different for everyone. That’s why I like writing, because it’s like-- it’s like a way to get it out without being vulnerable. It gives me more control over what I’m feeling.”  
  


  
“Seriously? Your cringe-y fanfiction--”  
  


  
She yanked the quilt down over his face. “Fucking let me finish, you little shit! I’m trying to do something wholesome here!” And muffled snickering from him followed. God, it was good to hear him laugh. “What I mean is if you don’t want to talk, you can write letters. I’ll give you envelopes and you can keep them and if you ever want to show them to us, you can or you can use them to help you talk to us in person.”

  
  
  
“And risk turning into you?”  
  


  
“...I’m taking your gummy worms.”  
  


  
“Try me, bitch, I know kung-fu now!”  
  


  
“David did not fucking teach you kung fu and you know it!"

  
  


Max readied a fist and she held a finger up, giving him the **look** . _Try it, little man, see what happens._  
  


  
He slowly lowered it. “...Do you really think the letters thing could help?”

  
“It won’t hurt to try it.”  
  


  
“I’m...I’m sorry, Gwen.”  
  


  
_That_ threw her off. Gwen pulled back and looked down at him, but he wasn’t able to meet her eyes. It wasn’t like him to apologize. It wasn’t impossible, but he only did that when he really truly felt terrible or if he was being sarcastic. “Why are you sorry?”  
  


  
“Because I ignored you and treated you like shit for something that wasn’t your fault. You didn’t mean to mess me up. I’m-- I’m already messed up.”  
  


  
_He means the whole cigarette thing._ She watched Max steal glances at her out of the corner of his eyes. “We’re both messed up, Satan. But you and me are good, like always. Sometimes, life isn’t fair and parents fuck you up. But that’s why we have friends to veg out with. Let me show you how to do it like a pro.”  
  


  
By the time David got back to the cabin, it had been completely rearranged. Mattresses were pulled from the bed and put on the middle of the floor together and the chairs and desks were used to support blankets thrown over them, along with the electric camping lantern inside. With the spare blankets and pillows, Gwen successfully created the ultimate nest to watch t.v from and Max complained it was for little kids but he settled in quickly enough when it was finished.  
  


  
She didn’t tell him her parents used to do this for her on stormy nights, albeit less elaborate but it had the effect she intended. He nodded off halfway through their last movie and slouched against her unintentionally. Gwen shifted him to lay down with his head on her lap, making sure he was comfortable and could feel her presence. The last thing she wanted was for Max to feel alone.

* * *

David didn’t even recognize the cabin interior when he walked in, and Gwen just gave him a grin and a thumbs up when he looked curiously into what she _claimed_ was an architectural masterpiece. “Indoor camping, at its finest.” she whispered, not wanting to wake the conked out boy on her lap but she did motion for David to join them. 

  
  


_This is ridiculous._ He was pretty certain he wouldn’t fit inside but after some awkward crawling and Gwen stifling a giggle when he almost knocked the whole thing down in them, he managed to find a comfortable spot to lounge on the other side of Max, who had rolled over and curled up into a tiny ball between them.

  
  


David absent mindedly fixed the quilt around him and made sure a pillow was under his head so he wouldn't get a crick in his neck when he woke up. He kept thinking about about their talk, if it could be called that. It was always impressive how fast Max could fly into a full blown yelling and cursing and coming up with the most outlandishly vindictive things to say when all he really meant was that he was scared.

  
  


And David had been prepared to talk him down, _despite how particularly hurtful that outburst had been,_ but then Max broke down before he could get a word in. And David had no clue what had set him off in the first place. Seconds before, he had seemed happy and excited and then he just withdrew into himself completely. Then it exploded. He devolved into unintelligible pleas that made no real sense and hyperventilating breaths so severe that David genuinely worried he might faint if it didn't resolve itself immediately. He wasn’t certain Max had even been fully aware of what was happening to him. Maybe David had said the wrong thing or it was the training or maybe it was just something that had been building for a while. But whatever the reason, Max became hysterical and David couldn't fathom how someone so little could already be so traumatized.

  
  


Did he really think all those things? That he was a mistake? That David would just stop caring about him at the drop of a hat? How could Max have such a _low_ sense of self worth? 

  
  


David knew the answer and it made him grind his teeth in resentment.   
  
  
  
His parents, why else? He knew that feeling, wondering what was wrong with him to make the people who were supposed to care most not care at all. He had wrestled with it for years. And now, seeing how tortured Max was over it, how twisted around his parents treatment made him, something just clicked into place. 

  
  


He had to make a phone call. He had to talk to someone who could finally start making this all sort out...David glanced over at his fort companions and smiled softly at how Max's cheek was all squished against his bear and Gwen had popcorn on her shirt still. It could wait until the morning.

  
  
  


David turned down their lamp and he nodded off after a while but woke up on the floor next to the mattresses since Gwen and Max were sprawled out over the space recklessly. He must have gotten booted in the night. _Yep, that checks out,_ he thought with a smile, sitting up with a stiff neck but he didn’t mind. Gwen must have been having a good dream, because she kept smiling subtly in her sleep and Max still looked deeply passed out, laying flat on his stomach and all his limbs spread out with his fingers still gripping Mr.Honeynuts by the arm. 

  
  


He tucked them both in properly again, and crawled out of the fort to check the time. _Phew, didn’t over sleep._

  
  


David contemplated for a long time by his window about how he was going to go forward. Finally, he picked up his phone and looked back at them before he slipped quietly out of the front door to make a call.

  
  


It rang two, three, five times before anyone picked up and his stomach did a flip flop. “H-hello?”

  
  


_“Davey?”_

  
  


“Hi.”

  
  


_“Do you know what time it is?”_

  
  


“Sorry. Were you sleeping?”

  
  


_“Course not, I'm at the station,"_ her voice chuckled warmly and he heard a familiar clinking noise of a spoon circling in a mug. _"I don't get days off, love."_

  
  


“Oh! Oh, you're working, um, I can call back la—“

  
  


_“None of that, you must've called me for a reason. What is it?”_

  
  


“Umm,” he glanced through the screen at the fort. “I think I need your help, Auntie. There’s a kid in my camp that’s having a hard time at home."

  
  


_“Hard time how?”_

  
  


“I can tell you over breakfast? This Sunday, maybe? It’s free activity day, so the campers do whatever and my friend Gwen can watch them—“

  
  


_“Sterling Pancake House? In town? Round eight?”_

  
  


David smiled a little. “Perfect. See you, Auntie.”

  
  


The screen door opened and slammed shut.

  
  


_“I’ll see you, pup.”_

  
  


David hung up and looked down to see a drowsy Max with full crazy bed head, hoodie thrown over his clothes he had slept in, giving him an inquisitive look. “Who the hell were you talking to?”

  
  


“I am actually getting breakfast with my aunt this weekend, nosey.”

  
  


“Huh.” Max raised his eyebrows, then turned back towards camp. “Good for you...I didn't know you had an aunt in town. Or an aunt."  
  
  
  
"Technically, she's my godmother," David smiled and trailed after him, only out of instinct. He just wanted to make sure he got to his tent alright. "You ready for today? Last day of prep training before the nature hike tomorrow. Today, you’re learning fishing and foraging.”

  
  


“You’re gonna give poles with pieces of string and sharp objects attached to them to these lunatics to swing around and then set them loose to find edible mushrooms? Good fucking luck with that.” Max snorted, a semblance of a laugh.

  
  


David noticed Max had a little bundle in his arms. Some paper and envelopes, and a pen in his hand. “Whaddya got there?”

  
  


“Uh— letter writing stuff. Gwen gave them to me.” He watched Max nervously scuff the ground with his foot and avoid eye contact. “I’m gonna try writing shit down before talking about it. It’s not her _worst_ idea.”

  
  


“It’s worth trying. Anywho, you should spend the day with your friends,” David pointed over to his tent, where all of the campers were still sleeping. “Get back to your regular routine, it will be good for you.”

  
  


“...What if I freak out again?”

  
  


“Gwen and I will be here to help. We’re never far away, buddy.”

  
  


“Jesus, how can I forget? You won’t ever leave me the hell alone!”

  
  


David knelt down on one knee in front of Max, who was still looking anywhere but at him. “Yep, you’re stuck with me. Don’t you forget it.”

  
  


Max seemed to be chewing the inside of his cheek anxiously as he looked to the side and then silently held his arms out to David. _Aw, Max._ David was more than happy to oblige his request, but the hug only lasted a second before it was done. “You tell _anyone—_ “

  
  


“And no one will ever find my body. I know.”

  
  


He watched Max run off back to his tent before his friends woke up and noticed he was gone and lingered for a little longer. He still had a third of summer left to figure out what the _hell_ he was going to do about Max, but until then, he had to do his best to make this a place where Max and all of his friends could be happy. 

  
  


First things first, he was going to go wake Gwen up. If he was going to succeed, it was going to be with his better half. 


	7. Chapter 7

“Max! Are you ready to go? We’re lining up to leave!”

“Hang on!” Max was just trying to cram his water bottle into the side of his pack, but it was too dense to fit. “Fucking stupid— come on! _Rrrrgh!”_

He stood up and gave his camping bag a good hard disciplinary kick and sent it flip flopping over the ground as Gwen stepped into his tent. “Having issues?”

“My bag is too small. It’s bullshit.”

“Let me look.” He watched her kneel down and unpack it, then begin completely rearranging it. “Dude, you just shoved everything in here?”

“Is there another way packing works?”

“ Oh my god." Gwen turned to him with a look of mock despair. "Max, you’re gonna die in the woods…”

“Hey!”

But once Gwen got her hands on it, she easily put it together without trouble and peeked inside one more time to make sure he had everything. Spare hoodie and shirt, the gear they had given each camper, sleeping bag strapped to the front and his quilt rolled up inside. “You forgot something.”

“No, I didn’t?”

He watched his counselor look under his bed and then pull out a familiar friend, giving it a wiggle. “Your mighty grizzly bear.”

“...I didn’t forget him,” Max muttered, snatching Mr. Honeynuts from her and holding him protectively from the _evil witch_ in front of him. He thumbed the spot where one of his button eyes was missing; he hadn’t found a suitable replacement yet. _Sorry, buddy_. “I didn’t want someone to see him.”

“Don’t you need it to sleep?”

Max didn’t answer her but Gwen held his open backpack out to him. “Come on, we’re gonna be late. Now or never, is the bear coming or not?”

In a moment of pressure, he instinctively put the bear in the pack and zipped it shut. In the end, he really didn’t want to part from it. Gwen helped him put his pack on his shoulders and he followed her out into the bright morning. 

Everyone else was ready to go, and Nikki bounced around maniacally pulling on David’s arms and clothes and yelling, “Can we go?! Can we go?! I’m ready! Set me loose! Come ON! TALLY HO!” while their counselor just patiently watched the sky, keeping an eye on the weather. It looked pretty fair to Max. Sunny sky, a fair amount of wind that would help with the heat. He walked over to the front and waited for the right moment, before he grabbed Nikki by the back of her overalls. She reminded him of a puppy just digging her feet in as she tried to pull forward on the leash with all her might and Max had to lean back with all his weight just to look like she _totally_ wasn’t stronger than him. “Nikki, chill the fuck out. The forest will still be there whenever we leave.” he said.

  
  
“Okay, kids! Make sure you have your buddy! We’re staying on the trail together, but just in case you get separated from the group, stay with your buddy. If you do get separated, stay where you are and we’ll find you, and make sure to drink water and let us know if you need to rest. Everyone follow Gwen! ” David called, and everyone moved to set out.

  
Gwen took point and David waited until he was at the back before moving, Max just in front of him and Nikki and Neil a little ways up. He had never been down this trail before, but it lead from the north of camp towards the mountains. Max had secretly always wanted to check them out. He had heard about caves and old mines and settlements by pilgrims from a long ass time ago that were abandoned for whatever reason. When he got bored, he had started to read up on Sleep Peak history and it was a _little_ interesting. He had an urge to ask David about it, but he didn’t want to open something he couldn’t put the lid back on.

He trailed behind since everyone was so _loud_ , chatting and whooping and being generally grating. Max just wanted to quietly study his surroundings, now that they were completely engulfed by trees. Only twenty minutes in and they were deep into the forest preserve. His senses filled with the smell of pines, the satisfying snap of twigs and softness of moss and dirt under his shoes, the dapples of sunlight that speckled everything. It was pretty in a way he had never seen in his life, and it was _endless_.

  
  
“Oh, Max! Before I forget, I got something for you.”

  
  
Max looked away from where he had spotted some kind of bird high up in a tree he didn’t recognize and back at David, who had shrugged off one backpack strap so he could open it and pull something out. “I have a theory that you liked Survival Camp. Maybe I’m wrong, but here you go anyway.”

He was just staring at David blankly. He had no idea what to make of being given a gift. His birthday was never celebrated and they didn’t practice Christmas or any regular holidays in his house. His mom used to tell him stories about what her family celebrated back home, like Diwali or Holi, but his father wouldn’t allow any of it. Only now that Max saw it was different in other houses did he notice how strange and inconsistent it was. His father was _fiercely_ religious, but celebrated no holidays. He prayed all the time, but mentioned no god. He had rigid rules and beliefs, that Max and his mother had to follow, but Max was never allowed to have whatever faith his father followed explained to him.

  
  
Point was, no presents. _Ever_.

  
  
David waited until Max realized what he wanted and he awkwardly held out his hands so his counselor could drop a small object into them. It looked like a blue woven circle-- “Did you make me a fucking friendship bracelet?!” Max hissed, _offended_.

  
“Um, well, I also have one but that’s not what it is. See? It has a compass and a fish hook-- it’s not very sharp but it will work. It’s a paracord bracelet, Max. It’s really useful! The inner cords can be used as sutures, the cord itself is _super_ strong and can hold a ton of weight, it can be a fishing line, or you can shred it up for fire tinder, all kinds of stuff! And there’s five hundred feet of it in this little bracelet.”  
  


“Oh.” Max didn’t know what to say. It was genuinely fucking thoughtful and he did like it. It was cool, useful and he didn’t even realize he would want something like this until he had it. He just kept turning it over in his fingers, trying to find a way to react like a normal kid would but he was coming up empty. 

  
He glanced up at David, whose happy smile faded to concern. “What’s wrong? You don’t like it? It’s okay if you don’t, I won’t be mad.”

  
“Fuck, no, that’s not it! I’m just-- I’m not...I don’t know what to say when it comes to this shit. I--” he took a deep breath and grimaced. He could feel his ears getting hot, and was sure his face was red with embarrassment. _Just say thank you, asshole_. He unclipped the buckle and began trying to get it around his wrist, but he was having trouble doing it with one hand. The longer it took, the more humiliated Max felt and his vision blurred and his hands started to shake. _Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. What did Gwen say?_  
  


Then, a set of pale fingers took over and simply connected the two ends of the buckle for him with a click. It fit snugly, but Max got the notion that in case it ever got caught on something, it was meant not to break. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, counting just like Gwen taught him. Slowly through the nose, hold for two seconds, then out through the mouth. And it helped. He opened his eyes again, starting down the path, focused on catching up with the group before anyone noticed. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled, barely audible. Max felt a warm hand on his head a moment later for a nanosecond and it was gone. He was relieved David just let the conversation end there. He kept rotating the bracelet around his wrist before he finally looked up at him and asked, “Is it okay if I show it to Neil and Nikki?”

  
“Of course! I bet they’ll think it’s cool.”

Max spent the rest of the trek with his friends. With the bracelet to break the ice, it was easy to fall back into their natural banter again. The last few days, they had been able to tell something was _off_ about Max and he had been more or less dodgy with questions. He even went as far as to avoid them a little, despite their concern and offers to try to cheer him up, which served to make him angry or feel guilty. 

  
But Nikki was fascinated by it and Neil blathered on about compasses and magnetism until Max thought his eyes would glaze over with boredom and then it felt like nothing had changed. They joked and laughed, they threw pine cones at Space Kid for the very satisfying _ding!_ off of his helmet. It was a four hour hike, and they did stop for lunch halfway through, but it was a lot harder than Max thought it would be. He felt himself getting winded and he was having trouble keeping up without Nikki encouraging him and helping him over the harder inclines. He knew he was small for his age, but this was just depressing.

  
At long last, they reached their destination. It was marked off with a few posts and a sign dictating regulations for using the camping ground. It was a naturally formed clearing in the trees on a flat patch of land. There were rock formations all over for campfires and Max could see the areas where people likely pitched their tents most, since there was less greenery growing on them.

  
They were all given a chance to pick out their spots and rest, and Max chose the second closest one to the forest edge. He wanted the closest, but he gave it up for Nikki. The counselors showed them how to set up their tents, rolled out their sleeping bags and dropped their packs on them.

  
It was a little like school, being tested on what they had learned or so Max remembered vaguely. He had bounced around private schools until the third grade before he stopped going altogether. They were tested on how to prepare their fire pit (David and Gwen quadruple checked them) and how to properly set up their fires. _Teepee to start it, cabin to keep it going_. Max carefully stacked up the kindling and used the newspaper he was given to bunch it up and stuff it inside the middle. He had an easy time striking his magnesium lighter to get it going and crouched down to blow on the flame to feed it. Before anyone else, he had his going and he couldn’t help but grin proudly.

  
They had hot dogs to roast over them and canned beans in travel pots, which was far from the worst meal Max had ever had. But then Gwen surprised them by breaking out the marshmallows, graham crackers and chocolate bars.

  
They all gathered around the big bonfire as David set up their s’mores assembly line and settled in to roast their marshmallows as the sky began to darken and become tinged scarlet on the horizon. Max sat against the log Gwen and David claimed, sticking his marshmallow straight into the flames. The proper way to cook it was to torch it, blow it out and enjoy.

  
There was a mixture of reactions when David pulled out his guitar and Max slumped further down with a loud groan and roll of his eyes. They played Name That Tune, which wasn't _unbearable_ , and David taught them a bunch of call and response songs, which Max didn’t participate in, but over all?

  
Max had _fun_.

  
In this place deep in the forest so far away from the city he had barely had time to experience and the prison he had to call home, with David strumming his guitar and Gwen begrudgingly singing along with him and the campers with a faint smile, he didn’t feel like any of the demons of his past could touch him. He felt _free_. He didn’t think about how hard the last three weeks had been, he didn’t worry about going to sleep and he didn’t devolve into negative thoughts about what would happen when summer ended. He just stayed in the moment.

  
The other campers slowly petered out and retreated to their tents for bed, but Max had comfortably zoned out while watching the flames. They were so calming, the crackle of the birch wood and flare of the embers in the center. But his favorite part was watching the sparks float up into the dark sky. He slouched with his hands in his pockets, eyes half closed, starting to focus on the stars. 

  
David slid off the log to sit beside him, guitar still on his lap. It was down to just him and Gwen, and Space Kid and Nikki but they were in s’more comas. “You’re certainly smiling a lot, Max.”

  
  
“Maybe it’s because I’ve finally cracked,” he murmured, feeling drowsy.

  
  
“Oh, I’m _sure_ that’s it,” Gwen said sarcastically.

  
  
“Fuck off,” he elbowed her and she elbowed him back

  
David set his guitar aside and all three of them laid with their heads against the log, looking up at the stars. Max had never seen so much blue and silver, but then David’s hand came into frame, pointing a few pinpricks of light out in particular. “That’s Ursa Major.”

  
  
“Uh...bless you?”

  
  
David chuckled, “It’s a constellation, Max. See, there’s the big dipper inside of it and the top of the handle, the brightest star? That’s her tail. It’s the north star. If you ever need to find north at night time, find Ursa Major, the mama bear.”

  
  
Max followed his hand until he saw the bright star he was referring to. Now that he was studying it, he remembered seeing it before. It _was_ pretty easy to find. “...Is there a baby bear?”

  
  
“Ursa Minor,” Gwen chimed in, leaning over to point as well. “Do you know their story? All the constellations have the story.”

  
  
He shook his head sleepily but tapped Gwen’s hand to signal her to tell it to him.

  
  
She and David took turns explaining it, their collective narration weaving a bittersweet tale of a god called Zeus who was unfaithful. When his wife tried to catch him with his girlfriend, he panicked and turned her into a bear and had to return home with his wife Hera before he could turn her back.

  
  
Her son, a good hunter, saw the bear and shot it in the heart, not knowing it wasn’t really a bear. When she died, she turned back to her human self. Zeus returned, scared that Hera would hear his crying over what he had done to his mother. He turned her into a bear again and then into stars, and then he turned the son to a bear as well, turned towards his mother in the sky so they would always be together and he could watch over her.

  
  
“Sounds like a lot of trouble that could’ve been avoided if Zeus just kept it in his pants,” Max muttered, his eyes drifting shut.

  
  
“Kid, you just broke Greek Mythology down to its bare essentials.” Gwen said.

  
  
“What others--” he yawned, “Are there?”

  
“I think it’s time for you to crash, buddy.” David said softly, starting to sit up.

  
  
“One more,” he argued and folded his arms over his chest as he smugly got comfortable, knowing David would crack immediately. 

  
“...Just one, and that’s it, then you have to go to bed.”

  
  
“Pushover,” Gwen said.

  
  
“It’s educational! Okay, okay, let me see...Right there. Orion’s belt.”

  
Max rolled over and curled up, and he didn’t mind David putting a hand on his head as he did. When no one else (exempting Gwen) was around, he was okay with the physical affection. It didn’t bother him now that he was used to it. David’s fingers combed gently through his messy hair, making a futile effort to untangle it.

  
  
While Gwen went and picked up the two other sleeping campers and put them to bed, David told him one last story in a soft voice. He said there were many different versions of the story, _“But I’ll tell you the one my mom told me._

  
_There was a hunter consumed by pride. He believed he was the greatest of them all, and he sought to prove it by slaughtering all of Earth’s creatures. He had no love or respect for the sanctity of life. All he cared for was feeding his ego; his name was Orion._

  
  
_And then there was Diana. The goddess of the moon and hunt, the patron protector of newborn children and animals, who watched over every living thing at its most vulnerable, the master archer. She was horrified by his actions. He had broken the very laws of nature. Do not take life in vain. Respect your quarry and honor them for giving their life so that you may survive._

  
  
_She visited him as a mortal and scolded him. She told him he had one chance to stop his crusade before the wrath of nature destroyed him. Orion scorned her and insulted her for being a simple woman trying to tell a man his place._

  
  
_Diana sent a massive scorpion to show Orion how it felt to be the prey. The scorpion was ferocious and relentless and every blow the hunter dealt to it only served to spur it on with more resolve than before. It never tired and in the end, Orion fell to its poisonous sting._

  
_  
Over time, the animals returned to make his old hunting grounds their home and the earth forgot him. Somewhere on the other side of the sky, the Scorpion is still there.”_

  
  
Max peeked open an eye to look at it, the stars more defined now that the fire had burned down quite a bit. “Your mom was a good storyteller,” he murmured.

  
  
“She was good at playing the guitar, too. When is your birthday, Max? Maybe we can find your Zodiac sign.”

  
  
He was too tired and comfortable to lie or make shit up. “I dunno. Sometime in fall, I think…”

  
  
He distantly heard David’s voice, the end of it upturned in tone that probably meant it was a question but he was almost asleep. He dreamed he was floating, moving up like a spark into the sky, a peculiar but not frightening sensation.

  
  
Weirdly enough, he woke up tucked into his sleeping bag and couldn’t remember getting up and going there himself.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
All he wanted was Max to be happy for a little while, and it took the weight of the world off of David’s shoulders to see that for a day. It broke his heart when Max clearly didn’t know how to handle being given a present and all over again when the child didn’t seem to know his birthday. As if it had never been granted importance.

  
  
“If it’s November, you could be a Scorpio. That would suit you perfect, Max--” he said and looked down to see Max had his eyes closed and was breathing in soft, puffy little snores. “Max?” he asked again, brushing his hair out of his face.

  
  
He looked up and greeted Gwen with a silent smile and gestured for her to be quiet as she set down on the log beside them. “He’s almost cute,” she whispered with a teasing smirk. “You would never know what a devious little twerp he is. Is he out?”

  
  
“Like a light.”

  
  
“Let’s not wake him up. Here, I’ll get his shoes, you can carry him. Gimme a second first, though."

  
  
  
David watched Gwen sit down and quickly shuffle until she was laying next to Max like before, with him between them and then she took out her phone. "Okay, smile."

  
  
  
"Don't you think Max'll be upset?"

  
  
  
"He had a good day, he's going to have something to remember it."

  
  
  
David willingly smiled, this one softer and smaller but genuine nonetheless. There was nothing like being tuckered out after an exciting day, and he bet Max could count on one hand how many of those he had ever had. Gwen snapped the picture and sat up, putting her phone away so she could start undoing Max's shoe laces. "...David, these are, like...a size and half too small. Look, the toe is almost worn through. They gotta be ancient."

  
  
"Maybe we can find him a pair in the lost and found?" David very carefully picked him up under the arms and settled him on his hip with ease. Max didn’t stir a bit. He just slept loosely in his arms, cheek against his counselor’s shoulder, light as a feather. Too light.

  
  
"Uhh...maybe. It's a tomorrow problem, just get him to bed."

  
  
David had gone to school to be an elementary teacher. He spent years learning about kids needs and how to meet them and part of his training was recognizing where they were at health wise. Max really was only sixty pounds, give or take, way below where a ten year old boy _should_ weigh.

  
He tried not to dwell on it. This was a good night, it would stay that way. He carefully tucked Max into his sleeping bag and swaddled the quilt around him; he loved that Max was so attached to it. Anything that would comfort him against his nightmares. He also made sure to take his bear from his backpack and tuck it against Max’s cheek. “Sweet dreams, kiddo.”

  
  
Gwen was just kicking dirt over the last of the embers when David got back and retrieved his guitar off the ground. “Over all, I consider that a success. Nobody burned the forest down, we didn’t lose anyone and we ate way too much sugar.”

  
“Hmmm,” was all David said, still lost in thought as he slung his guitar strap onto his shoulder.

  
  
“Hey. Play me a song.”

  
  
“What?”

  
  
“Play. Me. A. Song. Dummy.” Gwen tugged him by the arm as she sat down again, trying to get him to join her. Confused, he did and positioned it on her lap. “A-alright? What song?”

  
  
“One that makes you happy.”  
  


* * *

  
  
  


She would never, ever tell it to Max’s face but seeing him all snuggled up and fast asleep with a content look on his face next to David was probably the cutest fucking thing she had seen all summer. If only it could always be that way. She peeked at the picture of him sheltered between his two counselors, and she swear she could see he was smiling a tiny bit in his sleep. It was the most content she had ever seen Max since she had met him. 

  
  
But after David tucked him in to sleep, she could see when he returned that her friend wasn't feeling the same. They both worried about Max, and were constantly vigilant for anything useful for his case. They were planning to take action, but when and how they could be involved was still up in the air. David was most concerned about Max’s ability to handle it when the time came, and she was on the same page.

  
  
  
They needed to just not think about it for one night. She waited patiently, watching him mull over what to play as he fidgeted his hand along the fret of his guitar and finally seemed to settle on something.

  
  
It was a gentle, uplifting melody. His long fingers deftly picked at the strings and began to sing quietly. When he just sang naturally, like he was alone, he had a beautiful and calming voice. She could see him being a music teacher so easily. Gwen knew he had applied to positions at the local schools, but he hadn’t heard anything back from them yet. _The kids would adore him. How could they not?_

  
  
**“This is a story that began long, long ago** **  
** **I was a young oak tree in dark Missouri soil** **  
** **And like all other saplings, I had dreams** **  
** **Of growing strong and tall.** **  
** **  
** **Then one day a rebel with a bullet in his chest** **  
** **Hung his rifle on my limbs and laid to rest** **  
** **And there beside me as the blood soaked to my roots** **  
** **The soldier sang a song of grace...** ”

  
He hummed the melody for a little bit and she saw a small smile on his lips. Even in the dim light of what was left of the fire, she could see the copper glint in his hair and the warmth he just seemed to emanate on his own. _There’s my guy_.

  
  
He sang, they both sang, they talked or they just watched the embers die together. And once they had, the only sound was quiet guitar strings and crickets and rustling trees. “I finally see why you love it out here so much,” she sighed, stretching her arms over her head.

  
David slung his guitar back onto his shoulder and stood up, offering her his hand to help her to her feet, which she accepted. “Really?”

  
“Yeah. There’s something for everyone, even Max and even me.”

  
  
They walked side by side to their tent. They were used to sharing a living space, they didn’t even think to pack separately. But their excuse was that they could only carry so many supplies. “What’s out here for you, Gwen?”

  
  
“Let me think about that, Dave. I’ll get back to you.”

  
  
They said their good nights and laid down side by side with their packs and a guitar between them, unaware of the stars becoming blotted out by storm clouds throughout the night.


	8. Chapter 8

Max didn’t startle awake than he usually did. While he was pulled from sleep involuntarily, the knee-jerk reaction of panic and confusion was absent. He just opened his eyes blearily to the low, distant rumble that gently shook his tent and noticed the air was a bit cooler than the night before but he wasn’t cold. He was snuggled up in his puffy sleeping bag, and under that he had the quilt as an extra layer to keep the warmth in.

  
  
He didn’t remember falling asleep like this, though. And his shoes were placed neatly by his stuff. _Fucking weird_. Max reluctantly sat up and noticed right away his clothes had that stale campfire smoke smell soaked into them, and it brought back comforting memories from the night before. Wind buffeted the outside of his tent and he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, grumbling as he began to worm his way out of the sleeping bag and grabbed his shoes. Outside, he could hear the voices of everyone else as Gwen and David went around waking them.

  
  
When Max stepped outside, he was surprised by how dark the sky looked. It was completely _covered_ in clouds, and it was way windier than it had been the day before. Gwen and David were helping to quickly break down tents and Max jumped as there was another roll of thunder, closer.

  
  
Max decided he didn’t want to get caught out here in a thunderstorm either and by the counselors fervent efforts to get moving, he had better do the same. He wasn’t even sure where to start, but he decided to pull the stakes first that kept it rooted in place. 

Big mistake.

  
  
Immediately, it started to shift and careen over, picked up by the wind like a malformed beach ball. “Shit!”

  
He made a mad dash to grab it before it ended up out of control and struggled to get it back onto its base until Gwen came over and intervened him. “You could’ve asked for help.”

  
  
“You could have checked the weather.”

  
  
“We did. It was supposed to pass us, it still _might_ but we’re gonna get back to camp just in case. Don’t want to do paperwork for a kid getting struck by lightning. Come on, get your stuff, I’ll break this down.”

  
  
It was already starting to drizzle as Max crammed his blankets and lastly his bear into his pack. It only zipped halfway shut but he slung it onto his shoulders and ran to catch up with the rest of the group as they were all being waved onto the trail. “Everybody watch your step! The path is going to get slippery!” David shouted before they set off. It was quicker and quieter than the original hike, but Max this time took up the front with David, who was keeping a watchful eye on the ridge that ran up the east side of the trail. “Hey, kiddo. Did you sleep okay?” he asked after a bit, smiling down at Max.

  
  
He didn’t even get irritated with David _relentlessly_ checking on him anymore. “I didn’t have any nightmares,” he admitted, fiddling with his new bracelet. He had written about the nightmares and related problems already, and to his surprise, now that he thought back on it? It was a lot easier to say it out loud. It had helped to put his thoughts in order so they didn’t just run away into chaos. “I think maybe the fire and stuff helped. Like, when it’s _totally_ quiet, it’s worse. But if I can hear people or rain or something, it’s better. It’s easier to remember where I am.”

  
  
“Don’t forget, if you _do_ have any--”

  
  
“Come wake you. I _know_. I’m seriously doing better, David. You don’t have to worry so much.”

  
  
“Well, I’m going to, so...there.”

  
  
They were quiet for a bit, the thunder gradually growing closer and more frequent. It was still only drizzling, but it occasionally rained a little harder. Max pulled his hood up to keep his ears from getting cold. The ground started to become wet and slick along the better worn parts of the path and it started to slope down a little. He remembered this part; a particularly steep trek that had been the hardest apex of the hike. Nothing dangerous, but Nikki had to drag him up by the arm over the surface roots, as he grumbled and groaned and complained that the whole thing was inhumane.

  
  
He figured it would be easier going downhill, but he was wrong. He realized too late that he should have paced himself, and only did when his foot slid out from under him and he realized he was just walking down one big mudslide. He was panicking for something to grab onto to stop his descent when he felt a tug on his hood.

  
  
“I said watch your step!” David exclaimed, picking him right up and setting him back on his feet. All down the back of his hoodie and side of his pants, there was just mud. It was cold and sticky and **uncomfortable** . “Are you hurt?”

  
  
“I. Hate. This. Fucking. Forest.” Max snarled, kicking the ground so hard he nearly went over again but David grabbed his arm to stop it. His counselor helped him the rest of the way down the slope, despite him spitting and hissing all manner of obscene words about the forest. It was a miracle Diana or some other vengeful entity of nature didn’t come to slap him with a bar of soap square in the mouth.

  
  
He had never been so fucking relieved to see Camp Cambell when they finally arrived, and not a moment too soon. About five minutes before it started absolutely pouring (Gwen had to lead Spacekid by the hand; his helmet was not equipped with wipers) and a bright flash of lightning ripped across the sky.

  
  
Their counselors waved them to their respective homes away from home, Gwen lecturing the whole way. “Okay, kids, put on dry clothes and stay inside! We’ll bring lunches to your tents!”

  
  
Max stomped off to his own tent and swapped his muddy clothes for a clean set, and kicked the old ones under his bed. He hoped they weren’t ruined; he only had so many articles of clothing he had been able to pack in his tiny duffel bag. Afterwards, he fell face first onto his bed with a miserable huff and decided he was going to take a nap.  
  


* * *

  
  
For the rest of the day, it stormed. Most summer storms that hit Sleepy Peak were short and sweet, but this one was in it for the long haul. The counselors went around bringing them their food and announced they were all camping in the mess hall since it was likely better than their tents when it was coming down in buckets. They were all supposed to bring their sleeping bags to dinner and settle in for a movie night on the projector screen David rigged up with a bed sheet.

  
  
The last thing he really wanted was to be stuck in a crowded space with every one of these fruitloops he saw every day already, but he knew Gwen would drag him into the Mess Hall if she had to. When it was time to go, he hauled himself upright and began searching for his pack to retrieve his sleeping bag for the night. But when he unzipped it the rest of the way, his heart jumped into his throat.

  
  
_Where is he?_

Max turned his backpack upside down and dumped everything inside of it out. Sleeping bag, extra hoodie, quilt, water bottle, magnesium lighter, binoculars...No Mr. Honeynuts.

  
  
He stood up and could already feel his chest being pressed in an invisible vice, squeezing the air out of his lungs and forcing him to gulp desperately to get it back. He tried to remember Gwen’s voice, coaching him to _breathe_ but it was like he had cotton balls in his ears. He thought maybe he would be under the bed, but he wasn’t. Not stuck between the covers, not in any corner of the tent, he even tore apart Neil’s side looking for him (much to Neil’s horror and confusion). “Max, what the hell?!”

  
  
“Have you seen him?”

  
  
“Who?”

  
  
“Mister-- my bear! My _fucking_ bear! Don’t you laugh about this, Neil!”

  
  
Oddly enough, Neil didn’t laugh as he backed away and tried to steer clear of a rampaging Max. “Hey, man, I haven’t seen it--”

  
  
“Him!”

  
  
“ _Him_ anywhere! Maybe you dropped him outside around camp?”

  
  
“No, he’s gotta be in here, just help me look.”

  
  
“Max--”

  
  
_“Help me, Neil!”_ He didn’t mean to shout at his friend and by how Neil was looking at him (like he had three heads), he obviously was a little less than composed. But regardless, Neil actually stopped whatever he was doing to help. He calmly helped Max turn every stone for Mr. Honeynuts. But they didn’t find him.

  
  
When they were sure he wasn’t in the tent, Max just sat down in the middle and put his head in his hands. Neil lingered close by anxiously, then awkwardly patted his shoulder. “Let’s get Nikki to help look around camp. Don’t get upset, dude, it’s just a toy.”

  
  
“Fuck you, Neil.” he whispered, without an ounce of aggression in it. It was pure reflex. “Just leave me alone.”

  
  
“...I’m gonna go to dinner. We’ll save you a spot, okay?”

  
  
Once Neil had left, Max looked around, hoping to suddenly spot a friendly one-button-eyed face in a shadowy corner he had missed. The same one that had always comforted him before he could even remember, when he was alone, when he was hurt, when he was sick. **Always.**

  
  
But when Max still couldn’t find that face, he felt like the sky could fall down and it still couldn’t possibly make things worse. He slowly laid down on his side, on the tent floor and curled up tightly. Tiny barely audible sobs started to crawl their way up through his throat and he pulled his hood up, stretching it to cover his face.

  
  
“S’all my fault,” he mumbled to no one. “I lost him. It’s all my fault, I lost him…”

  
  
_I lost him_.  
  


* * *

  
“David,” Gwen nudged his arm gently as she sat down next to him with their dinner. They had moved the tables so the kids could set up in the center of the room, and had put on The Incredibles for them, which was thankfully keeping them pretty occupied. “We’re missing one.”

  
  
David looked up from his mac and cheese (one of the safest options) and scanned the room, instantly taking mental role call. It only took a second to notice one black-moppy-haired head was absent, and he checked the corners and tables to make sure he wasn’t just ostracizing himself. “Maybe he’s gone to the bathroom. Did you see him come in earlier?”

  
  
“I haven’t seen him since lunch. Do you want me to go check his tent?”

  
  
“No, I’ve got it. Maybe he’s just not feeling well.” David stood up from his seat, “You’re okay alone with them?”

  
  
“I’m offended you doubt me.”

  
  
“Thanks, Gwen.”

  
  
David made sure to make a plate before he left the mess hall, carefully shielding it from the rain as he got to Max’s tent as quickly as he could. He stopped for a moment, “Max! It’s David, are you in there?”

  
  
There was no response and he knocked on the pole that held up the roof, since there was no door to knock on. “Max?”

  
  
“I-I’m here,” he got a stammered, quiet reply.

  
  
He did not like the sound of that one little bit. David ducked into the tent to find a very distressing sight. Max was just sitting on the floor with his hood up and head down on his knees as he wrapped his arms around his shins. He could hear him sniffling and his shaky breaths as he tried to be quiet. But David could see he was crying, and had been for quite some time, alone. He set down the dinner on Neil’s experiment table and carefully sat down next to his camper, who just shuffled around to turn his back on him.

  
  
“Do you want me to get Gwen?” he asked, keeping his voice soft. “If it’s another anxiety attack…”

  
  
Max was already shaking his head no and David became silent for a little while, gradually moving closer until he could put his arm around Max. “Yes or no questions?” he suggested.

  
  
Max never gave him a verbal answer, just simple nods or a shake of his head.

  
  
“Are you hurt?” _No._

  
  
“Was it the thunderstorm?” No.

  
  
“Do you feel sick at all?” No.

  
  
“Can you write down what’s wrong for me?” Yes .

He followed Max’s pointed hand until he found his letters, all sealed under his bed and he began rifling through them to find the fresh paper but then the boy finally spoke up. “I already wrote it. It’s-- it’s this one.” And he crawled over to pick out one of the letters. None of them were labeled with words, but Max had marked them with a color or some kind of doodle so he could tell them apart without sacrificing their contents.

  
  
“Are you sure you want me to open it?” David asked, as Max offered it to him.

  
  
“Just fucking take it.”

  
  
He sat on Max’s bed to open it and his camper climbed up next to him. Max grabbed his pillow and hugged it on his lap, looking extremely disconcerted as he did. David tore open the top and pulled the folded paper out. To start, there was a carefully done drawing in pencil that took up the upper section of the paper. He recognized it immediately as a rough depiction of his teddy bear. And underneath, written in his short lopsided handwriting was a heart breakingly short bullet pointed list.  
  
 _People Who Care  
  
Mister Honeynuts  
  
Mom  
  
  
Why aren't his friends on this? _David thought, _Oh, Max, you have so many people who care..._ He wiped his thumb over a few spaces that were angrily scribbled out and smeared with efforts to erase the thick layer of pencil. He couldn't make out a single letter. Was his name in there? If it was and Max still doubted...He could think about this later.

  
“Max?” David looked over at his camper, who was completely hiding his face in his pillow now, his shoulders quaking. “Hey, hey. Don’t do that, you won’t be able to breathe. Sit up,” he set aside the paper and gently tugged at the pillow. “Can you sit up, please?”

  
  
It took a long time of coaxing before Max lifted his head and as soon as he took a deep breath, he let out the most broken sounding sob David had ever heard. “I lost him!”

  
  
David tried to hug him but Max jumped off the bed and chucked the pillow in his direction in response. “NO! Don’t feel bad for me! It’s my fucking fault! I was supposed to take care of him! He only has me and I only have him and I just had to do _one fucking thing right and I couldn’t even_ \-- _!”_

_  
_David waited until he had finished wearing himself out, despite how badly he just wanted to sweep him up in a hug and hush him until he stopped saying those terrible things, calling himself stupid and a fuck-up and worse. But he knew Max wasn’t going to be responsive to anything, not until he stopped on his own and he _was_ only ten. He would run out of steam and once he finally did, David waited for a few seconds of silence before he gestured Max to come back over to him.

  
  
Exhausted and shivering, Max shuffled up to him and David took him by his hands. “Tomorrow morning, I’m going to go back on the trail and retrace our steps. Mr. Honeynuts probably just fell out of your backpack along the path or at the campsite. I’ll find him.”

  
  
He could see Max searching his face for any scrap of doubt or a lie, but he would find none. “I want to help look.” he pleaded and David hated to dash his hopes.

  
  
“I'm sorry, kiddo, it’s pretty dangerous out there after a big rain. There’s fallen trees, unstable ground, mudslides, slippery paths...I don’t want you getting hurt.”

  
  
“You mean you don’t want me in your way.”

  
  
“No, that is _not_ why. If I thought you would be safe, I would say yes and love having you along but that just isn't how it is."

  
  
“But what if you don’t even find him?” Max asked, his voice hoarse from shouting and crying.

  
  
“We’ll think about that if it happens, but that is a very _big_ if. Come on, your dinner is going to get cold. Hop up,” He tugged Max over and helped him climb up on his bed, putting a pillow behind his back. “I’m not hungry, David.” he protested forlornly.

  
  
“You can’t skip dinner, here.” he picked up the tray and set it on Max’s lap. It reminded him of the hospital. Max mostly just picked at it, taking half bites with big spaces of time between them. David was pretty sure if he didn’t stay, Max would have left it untouched and he couldn’t afford to skip any meals. He mentally backtracked the forest trail in his mind but as it wandered, he began to think about the letter. The implications, of Max’s home life and his state of mind, were extremely sinister. Finally, he couldn’t bear it anymore. “Max?”

  
  
“What?”

  
  
“Why did you put your mom on the list? You've never said anything positive about her before."

  
  
Max dropped his fork and David knew it was a raw nerve that he had touched. “I’m--I’m not going to talk about her.”

  
  
“Are you sure? Maybe it would...” He trailed off because he could see Max was visibly shaking, tremors wracking his hands and he couldn’t even eat with how intensely fear took over his whole body. _What have they done to make him like this_? But he could see Max was done talking for the night. If he pushed him any more, it hurt more than it would help. So he just focused on getting him to finish his dinner and cleaned up his tray for him. “Do you want to come to the Mess Hall? You shouldn’t be all alone. Or maybe the counselors cabin?"   
  


Max deliberately ignored his questions and laid down with his back to his counselor, muttering, "I'm going to sleep."

  
  
It was hardly seven o clock, but David wasn’t going to argue. He spent five minutes cleaning up what looked like the aftermath of Max looking for his lost friend, and picked up the blankets. Max just grabbed them from him when he tried to tuck him in like many times before, and David let him. If he wanted to be distant, he wouldn’t stop him. It helped Max feel safe and that’s what he needed most. “I’ll go first thing in the morning. I promise. It’s going to be okay, Max, you’ll see.”

He didn’t want to leave a silent, miserable, heart broken little boy alone but it was what Max wanted most. And it was still _Max._ If he wanted someone gone, he would make it happen.

  
  
So David gave him until an hour before curfew before he grabbed a pudding cup from the Mess and doubled back to his tent to check on him. “Max, are you up? I thought you might want des--” he parted the tent flap and stopped.

  
  
The bed was empty.

  
  
His shoes and pack were gone.

  
  
_Max_ was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

It was laughably easy to slip out of camp if Max really put an effort into it. The moment he was sure David was far enough away, he threw off the blankets and began yanking his shoes on. There was always an issue getting them over his heel but if he just wiggled his feet at the right angle and yanked on the tab at the back of them, he could manage it. It was a little painful at that point, how crammed his toes had become but he had learned to ignore it. His clothes rarely fit in the last two years, give or take. His clothes, his haircut, his shoes and posture and how he spoke, it all used to be meticulously regulated by his father.

  
  
Because even if he was an unwanted child, he had to be a perfect one. But now that it seemed his father had decided to stop trying to present him how he wanted and would just hide him instead to save the trouble. Honestly, Max didn’t know which he preferred. They were both horrible ways to live.

  
  
But one thing remained constant.

  
  
No one cared about Max, that had been a fundamental fact for most of his life, no one except his bear. And he had grown out of the notion of a toy being alive a long time ago, but that didn’t change anything, did it? Mr. Honeynuts still comforted him when his mother abandoned him to whatever fate his father dictated for him. That teddy bear had been his only source of unconditional affection for as long as he could remember, even if it was all pretend. Even if he was just a thing, Max couldn’t handle the idea of losing him.  
  


He was going to find his friend. He wouldn’t let him be lost, forgotten, abandoned. He didn’t want to treat his friend like his parents treated him.

  
  
In the dark, it was harder to pick out the trail than he would have liked to admit. He had taken everything with him he had for camping. Lighter, the travel pot, a water bottle, and so on. He was pretty sure he was on the right one, exiting the same side of camp they had the day before.

  
  
It was still absolutely pouring rain and lightning flashed over head every few seconds, which helped him stay on the path until he felt far enough away to turn on his flashlight on his phone. He would have tried to grab one from the supply storage but Quartermaster had been lurking about. He might not have cared what Max was up to, but there was no predicting that freak.

  
  
He was already soaked through, since his clothes had no water resistance but at least his backpack kept his things dry. Max moved slowly along the path, carefully inspecting it for any sign of Mr. Honeynuts. He must have fallen out of his backpack on the way back. He kept kicking himself for being so careless. He should have stopped for a second and let Gwen repack it for him, or just been fucking responsible and paid attention to what he was doing.

  
  
The temperature hadn’t dropped much, considering it was still the middle of summer, but with the cool rain and wind, Max was starting to shiver. It was like nature itself was trying to turn him around and send him back the way he came, but he pressed on. His feet were soaked and aching. His heart was pumping loud in his ears and lungs straining with the climb. He checked his phone, and stopped when he realized he had only been marching for a half hour.

  
  
Alone, with no one else to help fill the silence and distract him from the passage of time, the journey suddenly felt that much longer. It was four hours to get to the site, four hours to get back. It would be sunrise by the time he got back to Camp Campbell, and Gwen would be about ready to tear him limb from limb.

  
  
“Or I’ll get lucky and find him in five minutes. Five minutes. Just five more,” he said to himself breathlessly. His feet kept sinking into the trail now, which was covered in about an inch of much and had tiny little rivers flowing down it.

  
  
_Five more. Just five more._

  
  
He told himself that at the end of every five minute cycle and it got him through another hour, until he got to the big slope. Max stopped and leaned against the ridge wall to catch his breath, letting out a little cough. “Okay. Okay, I got this. I fucking got this.”

  
  
He did not have this. 

Max only got about four feet up before his foot sank into the mud and he slid the rest of the way back down, dropping his phone in the process. He managed to rescue it, but at that point his hands were filthy and so was the phone. Max stood at the bottom for a long time, contemplating what he could do. If he had both hands, maybe he could climb better. And once he got to the top, he could just slide down the other side, right?

  
  
It was so easy on a dry day. At most, it required a little cardio. But now, it was like a boot camp obstacle. Max took one last look at it with his flashlight, trying to commit it to memory. He knew he was stalling, but the slope had a steep downward hill on one side into the forest below and a ridge wall on the other. If he slipped and went over, it wasn’t certain death but it would be a long, miserable walk all the way back to the beginning of the trail or a near impossible climb back up.

  
  
It was now or never. Curfew was in just twenty minutes, and that meant the counselors would be checking everyone was safe in their beds. They would know he was gone, if they hadn’t already. Max secured his phone in his backpack and made sure to tighten the strap across his chest and scooted as close to the ridge wall as he could. There was some lightning to help him keep track of where he was going but it was infrequent at best. The rest of the time, it was almost total darkness.

  
  
Between clawing his way up with his hands in the dirt and finding purchase on the stone wall, Max felt like he was making progress. He only slipped twice and with both hands, he was able to catch himself before he lost too much ground. Hand over hand, he made his way up until something poked him in the face. “Ow, fuck!”

  
  
He rubbed his cheek, feeling lucky whatever it was didn’t get him in the eye. He gingerly felt out with his hands to find what it was, feeling over bark and branches and some leaves.

  
  
He was at the top now, so he took out his phone again to get a look at the obstacle.

  
  
“Holy shit.”

  
  
It was one of the bigger evergreen trees that grew high up on the ridge, but as he followed the path of broken saplings and gouge up earth where he saw the huge, splintered trunk, blackened at the jagged edges. It must have been struck by lightning, and slid downhill, where the rest of the tree laid diagonally across the trail. The top of it hung over the side, and the middle of the tree was what Max had walked into.

  
  
He only spent a few moments marveling at how astonishing this feat of nature was before he realized the problem. Going up and down the length of it, it completely blocked his way. The trunk was too tall for him to climb by the ridge wall, and it was longer than the trail was wide. He followed along it and gingerly sat down on the trail, letting his weight slid him down but using his heel to slow his descent by digging it into the mud. And then he met tree branches.

  
  
“Nikki climbs these all the time, how fucking hard can it be?” he muttered, shining the light through them. Towards the lower part and middle, the branches seemed too close together and also burnt. He wouldn’t fit, and they would likely break. So he inched along towards the edge of the slope where the top branches looked more promising.

  
  
It looked a lot easier when Nikki did it.

  
  
He needed light to see what he was doing, making it even harder with one hand. He started with awkwardly clambering up between two branches to get onto the trunk in the first place. He just needed to climb along it for a bit to an opening he had spotted and then over, and he would be back on track.

  
  
But he got about two feet towards his destination before he heart a gut wrenching creaking sound and felt the tree shift, then go still.

  
  
_You’re fine. You’re fucking fine. You’re tiny, it can hold you, just take it slow…_

  
  
He inched along for another foot and then it happened again but this time, his stomach did a somersault as he felt his body tipping forward and it was too late. A damningly loud cracking noise echoed around him with the snapping of wood, and the tree under him shuddered, tilted and began to slide down.

  
  
Max’s instinct was to hold on for dear life, but then it collided with something. A rock, another tree maybe. And he was promptly ejected from it and was sent tumbling down the hill with nothing to absorb impact. He felt like he hit every sharp pebble, every pointy stick, every bump in the earth on his way down.  
  


When he finally came to a stop, he just laid there, the wind knocked out of him. He kept trying to suck in a breath, making an awful high pitched half-gasping sound until his lungs recovered and inhaled normally once more. Immediately, it sent him coughing and coughing made him groan and gingerly curl in on himself. _Oh my god, why am I not dead. This sucks. I should be dead. I will be because Gwen will kill me_. His stomach was where the pain was the worst. He wasn’t sure what had struck him in the abdomen, maybe a ledge or surface root, but that was the part that hurt the most. He was surprised he hadn’t--

  
  
Max lurched forward with a retch, losing about half of the dinner David had all but forced him to eat a short time ago in the dirt. _Nevermind_.

  
  
Once his stomach was empty, the reflex passed and he rolled onto his back again, shakily wiping his wet sleeve over his mouth. He laid there for a long time, the rain pattering against his face and hands, limply resting until he found the strength to haul himself upright. At least his backpack remained intact and had broken his fall some. Max wiggled his toes and fingers, checked his wrists and ankles, his knees and elbows and felt pretty certain nothing was broken. He was sore from getting rolled and bounced like a barrel, but there was no explosive pain from getting whacked in the head or anywhere else.

  
  
Max stood up, trying not to let his legs shake so badly but he almost couldn’t stand at all. He hunched over, holding his stomach with a grimace. He breathed slowly until he felt he could stand normally.

  
  
The first problem was that he had lost his phone. It had been hurled somewhere in the darkness, and he assumed it was broken since he couldn’t see the flashlight nearby. “Fan-fucking-tastic.”

  
  
Max didn’t want to go back to Camp Campbell empty handed, looking like the forest chewed him up and spat him out just for David to give him an I-Told-You-So. He knew with the slope-side on his left, he was facing camp. But on his right, he was facing the general direction of the campsite. Logic followed that if he went that way, he would still get there. It would just take longer, right? And then he could get back on the trail and search properly.

  
  
Max squinted in the darkness at his bracelet, twisting it until the little compass was facing him and realized that the markings glowed in the dark. Then Max felt a little sting of guilt.

  
  
He was using a gift from David gave to him to directly disobey him. On top of that, he was disobeying an instruction that was purely based on David’s concern for him. That was a new level of screwed up for Max, but it was for a good cause. When it turned out, David wouldn’t be mad, right?

  
  
The more David supported him, the more he claimed to be proud of him and to care, the more Max had begun to believe it. Now he didn’t doubt David nearly as much as he used to. He even dared to think he had formed a tentative bond of trust. But then came the fear of disappointing him. Of letting him down, pissing him off or not being enough. If screwing it up somehow that David would be no different than the other adults in his life and wouldn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

  
  
And when David explicitly told him not to go alone into the Oregon forest at night in a thunder storm because it was dangerous and then Max went and did exactly that, then proved him right…

  
  
“He promised.” he muttered out loud. He could handle this. He had learned so much about what to do in these circumstances, he was sure he could manage one night in the woods. Keeping his eyes trained on his compass, Max set off in the general direction of the campsite.

  
  
It wasn’t nearly as direct as he thought it would be. The forest terrain was uneven, in some areas the trees or rock formations forced him to go around and there were parts where the ground become so steep again, he had to descend and go around and hope it ascended again somewhere. Hours later, Max had been trying to deny it but he couldn’t anymore. He should have come to the campsite area a long time ago, and he was **exhausted** .

  
  
In the lightning, he could see the trees form in a circle and the reflection of it on water. It was a landmark if there were any nearby, so he made his way to it and seemed to use up the last ounce of energy he had left before he fell down under a willow tree at the pond’s edge, somewhat out of the rain.

  
  
He did manage to pull his sleeping bag out of his pack and struggle into it, before he rested his head on his backpack and closed his eyes.

  
  


* * *

  
Max woke up to sunlight hitting him square in the eyes and feeling like he had tetanus all over again with how badly all of his muscles hurt. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as best he could with dirty hands and carefully set himself up, taking a look at his surroundings. He could see the pond, and that he was sitting under a willow tree that had shielded him from the storm overnight.

  
  
He had to take inventory.  
  
He had no phone.  
  
He was completely lost.  
  
He might be hurt, but couldn’t tell.  
  
And Mr. Honeynuts was still gone. 

“ _Unnghhh,_ ” he groaned, running his hands through his hair, feeling the dried mud crack apart that was plastered in it. “What the fuck do I do? I should have fucking listened to David! God, can’t I just for once not make things worse?! _Stupid, stupid, Max, stupid!"_

  
  
He didn’t know who he was yelling at. The squirrels? The trees? Himself?

  
  
Whichever it was, he got no answers. Max tried to remember what his counselors told him. _If you got lost, try to stay where you are for as long as you are safe and able. It will increase the chances of someone finding you._

  
  
So Max waited as long as he could. He stopped by the pond to try to wash his hands and face, rinsed his hair out and felt a little better for it. He wished he had something to eat, but it wasn’t the first time he had ever gone hungry. He could handle it. But he did know that if he didn’t stay hydrated, he would be in trouble fast and after a big thunderstorm, it was hot and humid. He drank about a fourth of his water bottle before he decided he had to save the rest.

  
  
The sun had moved more to the middle of the sky, telling Max a good amount of time had passed while he dozed and waited. He strained to hear if anyone was calling his name, but he couldn’t hear anyone, so he tried to mentally retrace his steps from the night before. Best as he could tell, he had wandered north for hours. He started to get the idea that he was closer to town than he was to camp, so if he kept going north and a little west, he would either hit down or hit a road, right? Then he could flag someone down and call Gwen and David.

  
  
Max staggered to his feet, babying his stomach for a second before he began to follow the compass again. 

* * *

  
  
As much as they didn’t want to make a habit out of leaving the campers alone with Quartermaster, they didn’t have a choice.

  
  
When David came sprinting into the cabin in a tizzy, yelling that Max was gone, they had flashlights and raincoats donned in a heartbeat. They had no idea how long he had been gone and how far he had gotten, but this was no regular rebellious act from Max. The way David described his behavior, Gwen was considered he was genuinely having some kind of mental crisis. To run away into a thunderstorm in pitch darkness in the forest after a teddy bear?

  
  
“Why would he do this?”

  
  
She turned to look at David, who was still shining his flashlight through the trees for any sign of their camper. “Because he felt like he had no choice, David.”

  
  
“He did-- _does!_ It’s not like I hid the truth, I told him how unsafe it was and I would go look myself.”

  
  
“I don’t think Max is able to think rationally, at least not right now. In his mind, it’s the end of the world unless he did something about it then and there. Imagine what it's like for him, that bear is the only comfort he's got in the world and he lost it. Or maybe he was scared of his parents being angry? Or--”

  
  
“Gwen, I don’t want to think about this right now. I just want to look for him.”

  
  
“All I’m saying is that whatever place Max’s head is at, it isn’t anywhere you and I understand so there's no point in blaming yourself or him.” she said, reaching out to rest her hand on his shoulder. “We’ll find him. And then I’m going to never let that little shit out of my fucking sight again.”

  
  
They kept to the trail, sticking to the theory that Max was retracing his steps to the campsite, calling his name over and over again. She could hear the desperation in David’s voice. _“Max! Max, come out if you can hear us! I promise we’re not mad!_ ** _Max_ **_!”_

  
  
_Please be okay,_ she found herself thinking over and over again. _Please be okay, you little monster. Don’t be getting eaten by a mountain lion or laying in a ditch with a broken leg or bitten by a snake...If you’re okay, I’ll let you have all the pudding cups and watch all the scary movies you want and I'll never fucking yell at you again--_

  
  
“David,” she stopped and yanked on his arm. “David, turn off your flashlight, I think I see something!”

  
  
They both clicked off their lights and she clung to his arm, straining her eyes in the dark and a smile broke out across her face. She could see a bright white LED light up ahead, off the side of the trail. The only thing that stopped her from breaking into a sprint was David gripping her hand tight to stop her, “Wait, don’t run in the dark! You’ll twist an ankle.” he told her, but he was picking up his pace and turning his light back on.

  
  
They hiked their way through the trees together, calling out to Max more fervently than before as they began to move alongside the trail. The trail rose into the slope next to them until they got to the point where it was no longer accessible but their hopes dropped when they found the source of the light.

  
  
Max’s phone, with the little pine tree sticker on the back that Nikki gave him, covered in water and mud, the screen shattered to shit but the flashlight was still on. She watched David shakily hold it close and turn in a circle, his voice barely counting as a shout. One last plaintive, “Max?” as his gaze traveled up the slope where his flashlight picked out a fallen tree.

  
  
Gwen could see it in slow motion. Max slipping over the edge, the tree falling where he was walking, him losing his way in the dark and just walking right off. All of them too horrible to imagine, but they were all she could see. _Oh, God, no, not him._

  
  
She dropped her flashlight and hunched over with her hands on her knees, struggling to breathe but it was coming in full force. Her first true panic attack in a long time. All the time she had taken to coax Max through his, all the breathing exercises and mental strategies to keep from spiraling she had worked so hard to equip him with? She couldn’t remember a single one as she fell to her knees hyperventilating and David dropped to her side a moment later, wrapping his arms around her. “It probably just fell out of his backpack.”

  
  
“He was using it to see in the dark, the flashlight is on. It was in his hand, David! If anything happened to him--”

  
  
“If he was hurt, he would be close by but he isn’t. So that means he walked off.” he said, firmly taking her arm and standing slowly, coaxing her to do the same, however much she resisted. “Let’s do another radius for an hour and if we don’t find him, we have to go back and call the authorities to search.”

  
  
David had to drag her the entire time by the hand, the rain pummeling their shoulders as they shouted Max’s name over and over again, careful not to lose their way. They must have done a half mile, maybe more in a partial circle out from the trail but they were met with silence and the gravity of the situation was clear. They had to turn and head back to camp, Gwen following David’s lead since he knew the forest best and could get them back just with a compass and his memory. She only let go of his hand when they crossed the boundary onto the campgrounds.

  
  
She collapsed in her desk chair and put her face in her hands, barely hearing David as he picked up the phone and made the call.  
  


When it was done, he came over and leaned against her desk, still wearing his raincoat. Neither of them felt like they could be any less than ready to go back out there. But he did pass her a towel, or tried to. She didn’t take it, so he just gently put it around her shoulders. “They want us to wait for them to get here.” he said. “And then one of us can go back out, the other has to stay here.”

  
  
“I’ll go,” she said, sitting up but he shook his head. “You’re better at keeping things together here, Gwen, and I know the forest preserve. I grew up here. I’ll be most useful helping them and where the campers can’t see me freaking out.”

  
  
He had a point. Gwen tugged her pony tail out and began to miserably dry her hair and face. “Did you ever get lost?”

  
  
“I ran away from home a few times, yeah. But I always found my way back or someone found me, I was never as far or as lost as I thought. And Max is way smarter than I was at his age.”

  
  
They said nothing for a long time. They waited in quiet anxiety, watching the windows of their cabin for the headlights of police cars pulling up at the front entrance. Gwen wanted to mentally prepare what she would tell the campers to reduce panic, but the same mantra kept repeating in her head as she unlocked her phone and swiped through her album to find the picture. Little Max, fast asleep and safe as can be between her and David.

  
  
_Please be okay._

  
  
**_Please_ **.


	10. Chapter 10

Max had strayed from the pond but it lead into a creek that headed the same direction he was going. He felt like he remembered David mentioning something about how it was a good idea to follow water downstream if you could, but couldn’t recall why. Either way, he hadn’t run into many obstacles and it comforted him to have some semblance of a pathway to stick by.

  
He tried to ration his water until the sun was low in the sky but it was a hot day. He had taken off his hoodie and tied it around his waist, but even then he felt sluggish and hot, and his head hurt a little. He was even starting to feel dizzy. He hoped to find something to eat, but none of the berries he found were recognizable and he wasn’t dumb enough to roll the dice on them. And in a few hours, it was going to be dark.

  
First thing was first. He was out of water.

  
Max found a spot on the creek bank to dump his backpack and began gathering up rocks from the shore. Enough time had passed that he was able to find some dry wood, and he created a decent pile next to his makeshift fire pit. Now he just needed tinder. Dry grass or leaves were probably best. He considered using the bracelet, but he didn’t want to resort to that just yet. He wandered along the bank for a while, making sure he never lost sight of it until he spotted something. Cattails.

  
_“Normally I wouldn’t tell you kids to pick these, and we’re not going to, because they’re a protected species. But if you really have to, cattail fluff is the best tinder and you can eat the stems and leaves. Boiling them is probably a good idea, though…”_

  
Listening to David paid off some of the time.

  
Max picked as many of the youngest looking ones he could, and hurried back to his little camp to get to work. He made a teepee with his smaller sticks and broke apart the cigar-like part of the plant and stuffed the inside with it, sitting with the wind against his back to shield it as he began to scrape his magnesium lighter towards it, trying to get the fluff to catch a spark. His hands were trembling and fatigued, so it was much harder to do than before but he felt hopeful when he began to get a smoke. Carefully feeding it, he got a small fire going just as the sun was halfway dipping below the horizon.

  
He got some water from the stream and put it in the fold-able travel pot he hadn’t returned after the nature hike, and set it carefully on the little cabin he had built over the fire with the handle sticking out. He let it boil once, then removed it to cool, then boiled it a second time to be sure. He was kind of proud that he could recall so much from survival camp, and he had a new appreciation for it.

  
He poured half of it into his water bottle, then used the rest to boil the stems of the plants for dinner. They didn’t exactly taste great and the texture was _interesting,_ tough and fibrous, but he chewed them up and choked them down. At the very least, he felt better without an empty stomach.

As Max settled into his sleeping bag for the night, he tried not to think too much on the fact that a whole day had gone by, and he hadn’t seen any other people. He had made sure to feed the fire some more with larger chunks of wood he had found, and hoped it would keep going through the night. Luckily, it didn’t drop under 65 degrees while he slept.

  
He had thought he wouldn’t be able to sleep, but he knew he dozed off since it was quite dark and he wasn’t sure what was going on. _Something_ had woken up. A lot of loud snapping and a snuffling sound nearby. Max groggily rolled over, his back sore from sleeping on the hard and uneven ground, to get a look at it.  
  
  
He felt a cold prickle on the back of his next as a large shape moved in the darkness, lumbering by as it nosed through the ground. In the very dim light of the last embers, his eyes adjusted and picked out the shape of a large bear not even twenty feet away from him.

  
  
_Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!_ _  
_

  
He was panicking so badly, he could barely remember anything he knew about a bear encounter. Gwen and David had gone over them a few times, as best they could with Nikki’s constant input. But he could remember a little. _Stay calm. Walk away, don’t run. And don’t take your eyes off of it._

  
  
Max began to slowly and quietly ease himself out of his sleeping bag and picked up his backpack. It was huge, but in the darkness he couldn’t tell what color it was. Black bears and grizzlies were wildly different. Were there even grizzlies in Oregon? He knew there was black bears.

  
  
He began to slowly pick up his sleeping bag but when he drew it closer, it bumped the pot and it clinked against the firepit rocks. The bear stopped and so did Max. He dropped his sleeping bag and slowly raised his gaze to see if the bear was any closer. It _definitely_ knew he was there. It was looking straight at him and as they met eyes, it took two heavy bounding strides forward and stood up on its hind legs. As if that was fucking necessary, it was already a monster. And then it let out a bellowing roar that shook him right to the bones.

  
He was mortified he did it, but Max knew he screamed. He was sure right then, it was going to run up and tear him open. He forgot everything except turning tail and booking it out of there, leaving the rest of his supplies and running as fast as he could through the trees, splashing through the creek. He briefly glanced over his shoulder to see the bear was lumbering off, with two little shapes following it shortly after.

  
  
_She was just trying to scare me away,_ he realized. _She has babies._

_  
__  
_That didn’t stop him from running until he couldn’t any more, though. He didn’t know if the dad bear stayed with them, but he didn’t want to fucking find out.

  
When he really couldn’t run any more, his chest burning and lungs making him cough every time he breathed, Max stopped and leaned against a tree to catch his breath. As the adrenaline thinned out, he donned a shaky smile. “I saw a real bear. Three _real_ bears,” he whispered to himself. He couldn’t wait to tell Gwen and…

  
  
**Focus** .

  
  
Now that he was able to calm down, he took a look at his compass. The creek flowed north, and he had crossed it and run straight on from there. Or so he was pretty certain. That meant he had gone a chunk east, north-east maybe, so...If he just doubled back west, he would find it again. And the bears wouldn’t be following him, that much he was certain.

  
  
Max followed his plan and the sky began to slowly lighten as he walked, the sky gradually turning violet and lilac as it did just before the sun began to crest the horizon. He quickened his steps when he could hear running water, and true to his theory, he kept going west. After wrestling through some bushes, he found himself on the banks again.

  
  
Except it wasn’t a creek.

  
  
He wouldn’t call it a river, it was too small but it was a heavier body of water flowing over rocks and some tree branches washed into it by the storm, still swollen from the rain. David, Gwen and even some of the other kids could stomp through it with a mild challenge at most. But Max couldn’t swim.

  
  
“My feet will touch the bottom, though.” he argued with himself. And he had to get to the other side. He couldn’t wuss out.

  
  
Max undid the chest strap of his backpack and switched it around to his front, hugging it as he began to gingerly wade into it. Despite the summer weather, it was shockingly cold and he felt his muscles seize as it instantly soaked his shoes and socks. “Son of a--!”

  
  
Deep breaths. He put his backpack on his head with one hand, moving more towards the middle and as he stepped down into a dip in the riverbed and he was suddenly up to his chest in cold water. It felt a little harder to breathe, but he just focused on moving forward without tripping. He wasn’t sure he could get his head back above the water if he fell. Just as he was considering turning back now that the water was almost past his shoulders, the ground started to angle upwards again.

  
  
_Almost there--_

Max must have stepped on a loose bit of gravel. When he put his foot down, his toes dug into the river bank and it gave out under him and he didn’t even have time to cry out before his ears were filled with a sound he wasn’t familiar with. Muffled, busy, loud, static. He tried to open his eyes but they stung in the murky water and he let go of his backpack, trying to find his way back up to the surface. His chest was burning. His head felt like it was going to explode. He clawed through murky water to find purchase on anything as the current dragged him along the bottom and he slammed to a gut wrenching stop against something, the water pushing against him still and wedging him tightly under it.   
  
  
  
A high pitched buzzing was echoing in his ears and he was truly struggling to keep from just inhaling, because if he did that, he would drown. Max pushed against whatever was holding him in place, kicking furiously until it finally loosened and the current ripped him along the pebbles underneath it. Something dug into the back of his knee, ripping clean through his jeans and gouging deep into his skin and Max's breath rushed out in a cloud of bubbles as he couldn't help from crying out. 

But he was free and with all of his flailing, his head broke the surface and he sucked in air seconds before he went under again. His back slammed into a rock and he scrabbled at it but it was smooth and wet and he lost his grip immediately before knocking into another. Still holding his breath, Max thought quickly, following every instinct to live he had as he snapped the buckle of his bracelet and unraveled part of the rope. When he next hit the rock, he threw the end over it and grabbed it with his other hand as the current swept him around. The cord pulled tight and he stopped, finally.

  
  
Max wound the cord around his hand to reel himself closer to the rock so he could drag himself up onto it and collapse, breathing desperate gulps of air as the water continued to rush around him. Once he felt like he wasn't going to abruptly lose consciousness, he climbed up on the rock completely and got a look around. There was too much space between him and the bank on all sides...He was freezing, too, because the water had been cold and it was shaded and windy. His leg felt oddly warm, as blood coursed down to fill his sock and he looked and saw he had lost a shoe as well. All of his supplies except the bracelet were gone.  
  
  
He slowly sat down, giving in to exhaustion and defeat. The rock was big enough to support his size entirely, so he tried the cord off around it just in case he fell off. That was all he could do with the energy he had left. He was just going to lay there, bleed a little, nap a bit and hope he woke up after.

* * *

  
  
  
David hadn’t slept at all the first night, and he scoured the forest with a team of forestry officers the next day. He had given them Max’s description. They first went all the way to the campsite, many of them staying on the trail in case he wandered along it, but they confirmed he wasn’t in the area. The idea was that he never even made it there. Still, David lingered behind to keep his promise and scanned around carefully as he took up the rear of the party.

  
  
He saw it just beyond the entrance to the camp, nestled among leaves and rained on to hell, falling apart and sadder than ever. The bear. It must have fallen out of Max’s backpack when all the kids were running out onto the pathway. David tried to pick it up carefully, but it lost an ear and an arm, the west having worn away the final seams of what had been holding it together. It was barely recognizable. Still, he gathered up what he could and tucked it away in his backpack. At the very least, he had done **something** .

  
  
They continued their search in the radius of the trail where they all believed Max was likely to be based on where they found his phone. All David could think was that if he had never left Max alone, this wouldn’t be happening. 

  
  
He had worked so hard to help Max be happy, and be there for him when he couldn’t be. He tried to understand him, he tried to give him what he needed to improve but David felt like he didn’t actually know how to take care of Max. As he followed the rangers through the trees, a steady chorus of _“Max! Max! Max?”_ was carried between all of them, then a pause for ten seconds to see if he responded. Then they called again. Then paused. And so it had been going on for hours. 

Finally, they forced him to turn back at dark. He wasn’t official, he was a volunteer and he was running himself ragged. Only when they agreed he could jump back in at first light did he go back to camp. And even _then_ , despite his legs hurting and his whole body feeling like lead, David didn’t get a wink of sleep.

  
  
He couldn’t get his mind off of all the signs. The scar, the ‘rules’, all the little things that made Max flinch or withdraw, or that triggered his aggressive behavior in defense of himself. He was absolutely certain that if Max thought he could without his parents finding out, he would tell them everything about his home life. And if Max would endanger himself like this over a stuffed animal, there was no telling how unstable the kid really was. Did he just not understand the severity of his actions? Or did he not care? 

“Hey,” he snapped out of it at the sound of Gwen’s voice and her knocking on his bedpost. She didn’t look rested either, but she was holding two mugs. “Cocoa?”

  
“Thanks,” he mumbled, sitting up and taking it from her. She gave his shoulder a shove and he obliged, moving over so she could sit on the bed next to him, their legs touching. He sipped it quietly, not tasting it but the warmth helped. A moment later, Gwen tossed a paperclipped bundle on his lap. He blinked at it and slowly began to open it, “What is this?”

  
“I _think_ Campbell found Max’s dad.”

  
  
Her tone of voice was so dark, so _hateful_ that it just made the knot in his stomach worse as he thumbed through the article she had found, screenshot printings of a newspaper in the same county as Portland but he didn’t recognize the town name. The article was short and sweet, about a new private church that had opened and only allowed select individuals for worship. It mentioned the leader of the church, Father Sunil **Purohit** . It went into detail that the church’s purpose was to help rehabilitate troubled individuals, and had many programs to help single parents, displaced families and so on, rationalizing why it wasn’t available to the public. People could apply for membership, or be reached out to by them.

  
He could see an Indian looking man standing in front of a stark white stone church, with short cropped graying hair and a full but neatly trimmed beard speaking with church goers. He was wearing a crisp white clerical shirt and white dress pants with a book in one hand. His build was solid, and he was definitely no pushover. The picture labeled him as the supposed Father mentioned in the article. He didn’t look friendly, but he didn’t look exactly like the evil mean-faced man David had been expecting. He was well groomed, calm, and people seemed happy to be talking to him.

  
  
“Max’s dad is a _priest?_ ” he asked incredulously. “Are you sure?”

  
  
“Look at the next picture.” she said, flipping the page and pointing it out.

  
  
This part of the article described the family’s story. Immigrants from India, seeking a better life and to help disenfranchised people like themselves. He gripped the edges of the paper tightly, his eyes trained on the family photo. It was Sunil, and a young looking woman next to him, too young for their relationship to be appropriate in David's opinion. Her hair framed her face in flouncy coffee black curls with a blue headband to hold most of it back and she wispy bangs sweeping across her forehead. She had brilliant green, gentle doe eyes that didn't help her look older but were surely shared by her son who she was holding by the hand. He was half hiding behind her, but there was enough to pick out the defining features. Heavy black wavy hair, green eyes, cuddling his teddy bear in his free arm, which still had both eyes and looked much newer. David wagered a guess he was three years old. He had never seen a picture of a baby Max, but he just knew him when he saw him.  
  
  
"He looks so much like his mom," Gwen remarked. "It's crazy."  
  
  
"She's tiny..." _there's no way she could ever stand up to that man. She couldn't stand up to **me** and he's twice my weight at least._  
  
  
"So is he."  
  
  
“Is it just me or does she look scared?” he said quietly. He was an expert on forced smiles and Max looked like he was just trying to hide away. It did surprise him a little how well dressed they all were, though. They looked like they came from money. 

  
  
“She looks like she’s still in high school.” 

  
  
  
“That, too.”

  
  
  
Gwen set their hot chocolate aside for them and laid down again. David laid down next to her, unable to stop staring at the pictures. At a tiny shy Max who somewhere between then and now became the kid that meant so much to David. His young mother with the look in her eyes of a trapped creature. And his father who exhibited no emotion at all.

  
  
  
“We have to sleep, Dave,” she reached over and took it from him. “We’re just gonna screw up left and right tomorrow if we’re going two days without any.”

  
  
  
“I’ll try in a little bit, Gwen.”

  
  
After she went to bed, David dug out some craft supplies they kept in the cabin, and briefly left to the facilities. It was a painstaking project, removing all the stuffing from Mr. Honeynuts, taking out the seams and buttons, but he found what fabric was salvageable and ran it through the wash and drier carefully. They only had so much fabric, but luckily it was just a patch work job and he had just enough. It was a darker brown than the original, but it was better than nothing. David restuffed the bear, carefully stitched its body and limbs back together, fixed the ears and found the closest matching button to its one eye and attached it. And just for fun, he added a zipper and pocket to its back.

  
A little worse for wear, but he thought it was passing. It admittedly looked better than he had seen it in a long time, clean and without stuffing sticking out and intact. Finally, he trudged back to his cabin and set the bear on the head of his bed, and laid down for some much needed sleep.

  
  
He must have gotten at least five, six hours before he was woken up by the blaring ring of his phone. He grabbed it off of the nightstand and rolled over, putting it to his ear.

  
“Dav--David Rowntree speaking,” he said, trying to sound as awake as possible.

  
_“Davey, sweetheart, we found him. They're airlifting him to Sleepy Peak General."_

  
  
David could swear his heart stopped. “Is he hurt?”

  
  
_“Yes. I don't have a lot of details but the sooner you get there, the better."_

  
She was always so blunt but he was grateful for the stream of information when he had been in the dark for so long. He swallowed thickly and bowed his head, trying to keep himself composed until she uttered his name again. "I'm here," he muttered. "Let me get dressed and I’ll drive into town.”  
  
  
 _"No need, I've sent a patrol car to get you. I don't want you driving this way."_

  
  
"You didn't have to do that..." but he was extremely grateful.

  
  
  
_"Anything for you, pup. See you soon."_ click.

David threw his phone down onto the bed and ran over to Gwen, pulling her upright by the shoulders as she groaned and tried to push him away. “Begone…”

  
  
“Gwen, wake up! They found him!”

  
  
She peeked open one eye. “What?”

  
  
“They found Max, he’s okay! They’re taking him to the hospit-- **Oh** .”

  
  
He stopped talking as she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. He could feel her shoulders shudder and hear her sniffling, and once he was recovered from his surprise, he hugged her back. “I’m never letting that little monster out of my sight again,” her voice was muffled in his shirt but he could hear it trembling. He rubbed soothing circles on her back and sat with her for as long as he felt comfortable before leaning away. “Come on,” he said, smiling at her and tucking her messy hair behind her ear. He didn’t know what came over him when he did it. “Let’s go see him.”

  
The last thing they grabbed before leaving was the teddy bear, and it was a quiet drive with the officer up front giving them silence to think. He glanced at Gwen out of the corner of his eye, the wind ruffling her hair through the window. “Penny for your thoughts?” he asked.

  
  
“God, you are such a cheese.”

  
  
“Sorry,” he smiled, and she smiled back at him. It reassured him a little that she was doing better.

  
  
“I’m thinking I’m gonna take him to get some new shoes.” she said, looking back out the window. “On the way back, we can stop at the store.”

  
  
“We can say it’s an early or late birthday present.”

  
  
Forty five minutes later, they found a parking spot at the hospital and all but ran inside. After getting checked in, they were pointed to Max’s room and the doctor met them outside before they were allowed in. David recognized her immediately. “Doctor Herrera.”

  
  
Normally she was more friendly, but she didn’t even smile at them when they spoke. She just glanced through the door and then back at the two of them. “I wish we met under better circumstances, Mr. Rowntree, but I’m afraid there’s a bit of a problem with Max.”

  
Gwen anxiously gripped the teddy bear in her hands and looked at him. “What _kind_ of problem?”

  
  
“All things considered, it could be much worse. He’s exhausted, very dehydrated and hungry and has bumps and bruises everywhere. Said he fell down a slope. But he has a gash on his leg he won’t let us treat. We have to remove his pants but when anyone tries, it’s-- it’s…” she faltered as she tried to find the words. “He starts screaming the building down, and I would rather not have to sedate him with the blood he's lost, even after the transfusion. He even hit a few of the nurses, and I mean **hit** them.”

  
  
“What can we do?” David asked, crossing his arms anxiously. He wasn’t going to mention he was the one who taught Max how to hit properly.  
  
  
  
“He knows you, maybe you can keep him calm enough. If you can't, then it's restraints and that's the very last thing I want to put this boy through."

  
  
He exchanged a look with Gwen, who shrugged. “It’s worth a try. Let’s go.”

Together, they stepped into the hospital room, where they saw Max for the first time in almost two days.


	11. Chapter 11

Max heard the door swing open and shut behind him, making him tense all over again. He was so tired, but he was ready to give them hell again if he had to. “I said I’m not fucking--” he started to growl and turned around, and the rug was pulled out from under him. He didn’t see people in white clothes trying to stick an I.V in his hand and violate his personal space. No, he saw an idiot with red hair and a stupid bandana and a bitch with a teddy bear that did not belong to her.

  
He couldn’t even find his voice. They smiled at him when they should have been yelling. He watched Gwen come over to him slowly and offer him the bear, which looked different but it was him. With shaking hands, he took him from her and looked at his face, one button eye slightly smaller than the other. “I’m sorry, buddy,” he whispered, his voice shaking as he hugged Mr. Honeynuts tight and buried his face against the clean smelling fabric.

  
  
His counselors pulled chairs up to the side of the bed and sat down in front of him. He could see how tired they looked, and tried not to feel shitty about it, but he did. They shouldn’t have wasted sleep on him. He kept sub consciously petting one of Mr. Honeynut’s ears between his fingers, something that helped calm him since he was little. “You-- you don’t have to yell at me.” he said, keeping his head down. “I learned my fucking lesson.”

  
  
“Max, all we care about is that you’re safe.” David said. _That fucking guilt-tripper_. “You went on a pretty big adventure, didn’t you?”

  
  
David was talking to him like he was five but it was just so nice to be talked to by him at all, Max didn't mind. He was just so relieved they were there. "I...I saw bears.” he admitted.

  
  
“No way,” Gwen leaned forward, tilting her head at an angle to catch his eye and he looked up to avoid her. It was kind of funny.

  
  
“Y-yeah, a mom and two babies. Scared the shit out of me. I thought she was going to bite my head off if I didn’t get the fuck away from her. Kind of reminded me of you, Gwen.”  
  


  
“Aww.”  
  
  


“Where were you going, Max?” David cut in.  
  
  
“I was looking for him,” he answered, finally looking at them as he gestured with Mr. Honeynuts. “But...I slipped off the trail. And fell. And I couldn’t get back up and I thought I could go around. When I figured out I was lost, I just tried to go north towards town.”  
  
  
  
“That was smart. They picked you up a mile from it, you almost made it.” Gwen said.  
  
  
  
“Yeah, almost.” Max muttered, trying to shrug but winced. The cut on his back stung pretty badly. “I was doing okay until the bears got me off course. I boiled water to drink, I found cattails to eat, I followed the compass...”  
  
  
  
"Sounds like you were putting Survival Camp to good use,” David said with a goofy smile.  
  
  
  
“I remembered stuff you taught me. Can I go back to camp yet? I just want to forget about this shit.” He just wanted to sleep in his tent and not have anything like this happen again for the rest of the summer. He watched his counselors look at each other and hesitate with a silence exchange between them. “What? What the hell is it?”  
  
  
  
“You can when you’re fully treated,” Gwen said. “Otherwise we can’t take you back.”  
  
  
  
“That’s bullshit!”  
  
  
  
“You need stitches,” David said patiently. “And it has to be cleaned, so you don’t get another infection. It will be done before you know it and we can get ice cream on the way back, how’s that?”  
  
  
  
He didn’t give a shit about ice cream for once. He didn’t care about how logical David was sounding, he didn’t care about their reasoning. He wasn’t doing it. He scooted back on the bed and hugged his bear. He felt the bed shift as Gwen set down on it next to him. “Hey. Why won’t you let them help you?”  
  
  
“None of your fucking business, that’s why!”  
  
  
He didn’t mean to shout and he wilted immediately under the look Gwen gave him. The **_do not fuck with me, little man_ **look. But she threw him for a loop when she laid her hand on his head and ran it over his hair, picking out bits of leaves as she did. “Max, you know they’re going to do their jobs whether or not you want them to. If they have to, they’ll restrain you and I’m sorry kiddo, but I’ll let them because I care more about you not getting landed in here for another two weeks with a blood infection than anything else. Unless you think I should? But then you’ll have to tell me what it is.”  
  
  
 _I want to tell you_ , he thought, biting the inside of his cheek so hard his mouth filled with a metallic taste.  
  
  
“Max,” David said quietly, “Can you not tell us because it’s something to do with your parents?”  
  
  
 _Fuck_. He wasn’t sure if he hated that David figured it out, or if he was relieved that a communication gap had finally been closed. All Max could manage was a nod, trying his best to breathe calmly. He knew that he wasn’t getting out of this. When the doctor saw his wound, she would see everything else and there wouldn’t be any way to keep hiding the truth. It would all be chaos from there. They would try to take him away from his parents. He would never see his mother again, and his father would never let him go and he would pay for it for the rest of his life.  
  
  
“What happened to Mr. Honeynuts?” he asked, trying to change the subject.  
  
  
“Oh. Well, when I found him, he wasn’t doing so great, so I washed him and patched him up. Does he look okay?”  
  
  
“Yeah. He does,” Max’s voice broke. “Thanks, David.”

  
“You’re welcome, kiddo...He’s very special to you, huh?”

  
  
Max found himself curling up against Gwen’s side, like he could use her to hide away from everything but there was nowhere to go anymore. “He’s the only one who cares about me,” his voice was barely more than a whisper. “I was never really alone with him.”

  
  
“Oh, Max, that’s not true.”

  
  
“What?”

  
“Gwen and I care about you. And Nikki and Neil, and lots of others. Mr. Honeynuts is still your best friend, but he isn’t your only friend, remember?” David said, standing up from his chair and taking a seat on the bed with the two of them, smiling at Max reassuringly. 

  
Max felt like if he looked at the two of them for very long, he would finally crack. He would break down bawling in front of them and they would hug him and keep saying nice shit and he would tell them everything, and it would be the last time he ever fucked up like that because his father would probably kill him. “I don’t--” his voice was higher than normal and he could barely get it to work at all. “I don’t want you to see my legs. You’re going to freak out.”  
  
  
He could feel them staring at him and he knew all manner of terrible things they must be thinking. Some of them were probably right. “Okay,” David said quietly, gesturing for Gwen to get off the bed. They knelt down on the same side and he took one of Max’s hands, and Gwen took the other, encouraging him to sit on the edge with his feet hanging over it. “Then we’ll just look at your face. And we’ll be right here while Dr. Herrera works and when she’s done, we’re going home.”  
  
  
 _Home.  
_  
  
“And ice cream. You said ice cream,” he added.  
  
  
“You can eat ice cream ‘til you puke, kid.” Gwen grinned and David elbowed her gently with a disapproving look.  
  
  
They waited until Max was ready and Dr. Herrera came back. Admittedly, he did like her. She didn’t baby him but she was nice, and she was good and quick at her job. Gwen helped him tug his jeans down over his knees without scraping the gash and set them aside. Then came the worst part. Gwen and David made sure to keep their promise not to look as the doctor told him to lay down on his stomach and take deep breaths. He heard her tapping the glass of syringe and he scrambled to hold his bear tighter than ever because he didn't know there would be shots. He wanted to run out of there shrieking but he didn't have the strength to fight back. David placed a hand on his back and his arm, humming to him gently.   
  
He felt the needle pierce his calf and he buried his face in his bear, emitting a pitiful keening noise as tension built in the skin as she injected whatever it was that would numb everything. He felt David petting his hair and Gwen rubbing his lower back gently to comfort him. He heard Gwen quietly say, “You got this, kiddo, deep breaths. I’ll do them with you…” And she coached him the entire time. It was the only thing keeping him from completely losing his shit.   
  
  
Something stuck him in the leg and Max yelped and kicked on accident, so Doctor Herrera quickly withdrew. "Did you feel that?"  
  
  
"Yes, I fucking felt it!"  
  
  
"I'm sorry, Max, I'll numb it some more."  
  
  
 _No,_ he sobbed mentally, squeezing his eyes shut but the second needle was in already. He only felt a little tugging as she began to work stitches into his skin to pull the edges of the wound together. He felt like vomiting.  
  


"You're doing great," David reassured him. "Just a few more. I wasn't half as tough as you when I got my first stitches."  
  
  
"When--when did you get stitches?" Max asked through the nausea.  
  
  
"When didn't he?" Doctor Herrera chuckled.   
  
  
"Let's see...I toddled head first onto a coffee table edge when I was a baby. I fell out of a tree when I was your age,"  
  
  
"Was that the collar bone incident?"  
  
  
"No, I was eight when that happened."  
  
  
"Jesus _Christ_ , David." Gwen said. "What didn't you hurt?"  
  
  
"I've never had a concussion!" He said proudly.  
  
  
Max almost laughed at how damn low the bar was but he realized Doctor Herrera was wiping his leg clean and wrapping some bandages around it gently. "All done," she declared. "There's some clean sweatpants for you to wear home, Max. I'm afraid surgery can't help your jeans now."  
  
  
  
Max couldn’t get those pants back on fast enough and hopped off the bed with a wobble, his balance off with the numbing not worn off yet. He just wanted to get the fuck out of there. With his heart pumping loudly in his ears, he barely heard David thank the doctor before she stopped him by the arm. “Can I talk to you for a moment, Mr. Rowntree?”

  
  
“Of course. Max, are you okay waiting outside with Gwe--?”

  
  
He was already speed walking through the door, dragging Gwen with him by the hand. The bomb was about to go off. He didn’t want to be in ground zero.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
David watched as Dr. Herrera took her phone from her pocket with one hand and snapped a quick picture of Max’s legs before putting it away, all the while cleaning the wound with her other hand so Max wouldn’t get suspicious. He was half despairing, half grateful for her discretion.  
  
  
  
As asked, David stayed behind with the doctor, who was opening her phone the moment Max couldn’t see or hear them anymore. “Did you know about these?” she asked tensely, turning it around so he could see the picture.  
  
  
The whole world seemed to slow to a stop as it sickened David with the things its people were capable of doing. All of his worst fears were reality. How deceptively peaceful Max's father looked in those photos, with the serenity he cultivated in his appearance and surroundings. Hiding the monstrous side like he hid the monstrous things he had done to Max where no one would see them so long as Max didn't wear shorts and kept his hair long enough. The scar on his neck had many to match it but they were hard to distinguish from the crooked lines that went from his thighs down to his calves, too many healed lacerations to count. And he was going to have a new one.  
  
  
“I didn't know about those,” he said hoarsely. “I knew-- I knew things were bad at home. We were helping him to talk about it. He started writing it down. We just thought rushing him might be trauma--”

  
He couldn’t even finish that sentence as he buried his face in his hands, trying to comprehend how anyone could do this to a _child_. To a little boy completely dependent on them, who trusted and needed them and then they chose to hurt and neglect him instead. How fundamentally **broken** inside did a person have to be to do that? How could his father look at Max, know what he had done to him and act as though it was fine?

  
  
He forced himself to breathe calmly and ran a hand over his head, blinking back furious tears. “I know what happens next. You have to make a report."

  
  
“Yes. We’re both mandated reporters, David. I understand your reasons, but this is out of our hands now. That boy needs higher intervention.”

  
  
“Can I talk to him first? Please. Just so he understands what’s going to happen. I’ll help you put together the report after with what we know, tomorrow morning. I don’t want him to be scared."

  
She sighed and put her phone away with a solemn nod. “I don’t doubt you were doing your best, Mr. Rowntree. It’s a very difficult situation. Go on, he’s probably starting to wonder, we’ll be in touch.”

  
  
David left the room in a haze, the picture scoured into his brain until he looked down and saw Max staring up at him. Those big brilliant green eyes, just like his mother’s, filled with apprehension. He knew that Max knew but he just reached down with a smile and ruffled his hair gently. “We’ll talk later. Ice cream first.”

  
He was pretty tired, so Gwen gave him a ride on her back to the car left for them. It was dropped off by his aunt, definitely her wife's car so they weren't stranded and he'd have to arrange for them to get it from camp later. David drove them to the tiny shopping center in town. It was more like a street that was all stores, but it was where everyone went. David could remember getting ice cream, guitar strings and a new coat here when he was a kid. This was where everyone got everything. They stopped to get ice cream first. Gwen got chocolate chip coffee, David got cookie dough and they let Max get a double scoop, chocolate and strawberry with a ton of whipped cream and M&M’s.

  
  
“Where are we going?” Max asked, following them down a block to the clothing store.  
  
  
“To put those poor things out of their misery,” Gwen said, pointing to his shoes as David held the door for them.  
  
  
They made their way to the shoe section, and he left Gwen to help Max pick out a pair. Poor Max looked so bewildered and suspicious, as Gwen helped to measure his foot and then told him to go pick out a pair he liked in that size. He was just eyeing something blue when David split off to the clothes section.

  
He grabbed some pants and t-shirts he thought might fit Max, then a blue raincoat, socks and so on. At least four full outfits aside from the coat, and he paid for them (and kept the receipt in case they didn’t fit) and put them in the car before he met them back inside. 

  
  
Gwen was just checking the shoes Max had picked out fit, “Your toes aren’t touching the end?”  
  
  
“No…”  
  
  
“And you like them?”  
  
  
  
“I guess?” She gave him a look and he revised his answer with more certainty, “Yeah, I do.” 

Gwen took off the tags so he could wear them out, and gave them to the cashier to scan. Max kept rocking to and fro on each foot, probably marveling at how much more comfortable they were. David knew he was being very quiet but he didn’t want to risk his temper coming out. He was getting angrier every second. _They couldn’t have bothered to even buy him some decent clothes to wear?_

“One last stop, guys.” He said, trying to sound cheerful as they piled into his beat up car and he pulled around the corner, heading to the nearby park. It was pretty empty at this time of day, and he was thankful for it as he parked and got out with the two of them.

  
  
They walked quietly with Max between them along the park path. There were two playsets, picnic tables everywhere, beautiful gardens but his favorite was the duck pond with the willow trees. That’s where he steered Max and Gwen, and they found a spot under a tree to sit. It was so quiet and peaceful, sunlight filtering through the swaying branches. He could remember having picnics here and singing along with his mother’s guitar while Granda taught him how to skip rocks, to catch turtles and then let them go. Good memories he wished Max could have. 

  
_Help me, Mom. I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to mess this up_.

  
“Max, how about you go play for a little bit?” He suggested, and Max gave him the most indignant look he had ever seen. “Play,” he repeated in a flat voice. “I don’t ‘play’, David, I’m not four.”

  
  
He didn’t have the wherewithal to come up with a decent response. “I just need to talk to Gwen, and it’s a private conversation.”

  
  
“Oh...kay?”

  
  
“Go, Max, I’ll call you when we’re done.”

  
  
He watched Max uncertainly wander off to the playground, where he just found a swing to sit on and swayed on it idly, his toes barely scuffing the woodchips. _At least he’s out of earshot_. Gwen leaned against the tree and he joined her, checking his phone to see if Dr. Herrera had texted him at all but nothing. She was probably busy with other patients. “Dave,” Gwen bumped his shoulder with hers. “You in there? What’s going on? You look like you’re, well...if I didn’t know you were you, I’d say contemplating murder.”

  
“I might be,” he muttered darkly, starting to crack his knuckles. He stopped when Gwen reached over and covered his hands with one of her own, “Whatever it is, you have to stay calm.” She said quietly. “For Max. He can’t see you angry, he might not understand it isn’t directed at him.”

  
  
“You should be a school counselor or something. You’d be great at it. Kids would love you, and you would be good at helping them.”

  
  
“You’re sweet and you’re avoiding the conversation.”

  
  
David crossed his arms to avoid any fidgeting and closed his eyes. “Dr. Herrera took a picture of Max’s legs. He’s covered in scars, Gwen. Someone’s been hitting him for a _long_ time.”

  
  
“Jesus fucking...”

  
  
“How can they do that to him?” his voice was shaking. “He’s just a little kid, Gwen. They’re supposed to protect him and _love_ him. He’s their son. They raised him from a baby, he’s been completely dependent on them, he has no other choice but to be and they just...Tell me, Gwen. Because I-I’m at a loss, I can’t fucking fathom it.”

  
  
She was quiet for a long time, and he could see her watching Max around the tree, who wasn’t looking at them. “There isn’t an answer, David. Sometimes people do evil things and there’s no simple explanation, and trying to find it will just drive you crazy. What matters now is that we keep a level head, and make sure Max gets help properly. He’s not going to make it easy.”

  
  
“So how do we make it easier for him?”

  
  
“We coach him through the process to come, make sure he understands what’s happening so he doesn’t get scared and lash out and make it harder on himself.”

  
  
“What if he won’t talk to us or the social worker?”

  
  
“There’s proof of physical abuse. Doesn’t matter what he says, no one in their right fucking mind would send that kid back to his parents.”

  
  
“And then what, he ends up in a foster home? Max is an amazing, _wonderful_ kid but it takes a long time to get to know him and not everyone will make the effort. What if he just gets passed around the system?”

  
  
“He might,” Gwen admitted, tucking her hair behind her ears the way she did when she was thinking. “But we would be around, wouldn’t we? And it will be better, even if it’s not ideal. When do you want to talk to him? Today?”

  
  
He watched Max start to nod off, then picked his head up and get off the swing, rubbing his eyes as he did. “...No. Let’s give him a breather. It doesn’t have to be tonight.”

  
They walked back to the playground together and Gwen gestured silently for Max to come over, which he did but he wouldn’t get too close to them. There was no way he didn’t know what they had been talking about, but if he wanted to avoid it for a little while, David didn’t blame him. He slowed his steps to walk side by side with Max, who looked away from him. “Doing okay? Do you want me to carry you?”

  
“I’m not an infant, David.”

  
  
“You just look tired,” he said patiently. “You’ve been through a lot.”

  
  
“Is this going to be a thing?” Max growled, stopping in his tracks. “Talking about me like I’m not here, treating me like I’m too fucking fragile to handle shit? I’m not. You have no fucking idea what I can handle.”

  
“You’re right.” David said.

  
  
That always got Max to shut up quick. While he thought of a response, David took his chance. “I don’t have any idea what it’s like to be you, Max. I can’t imagine how exhausting it is to be you, to always be hyper vigilant and never knowing who’s going to help or hurt. Am I close?”

  
  
“Maybe,” Max grumbled.

  
  
“If you want to know what’s going on, you just have to ask.”

  
  
“I’m good.”

  
  
“Are you su--”

  
  
“I said I’m fucking good, asshole!”

  
  
It was a quiet drive back. Max slouched in his seat and pretended to nap, but David and Gwen let him. David put on the Johnny Cash c.d Max liked, but didn’t feel much like singing along. He just stared worriedly at the road ahead, anxiously tapping his fingers on the wheel until Gwen laid a hand on his shoulder and he calmed a little. When they got back, Max said nothing to them as he slammed the car door, but Gwen stopped him. “I don’t need to tell you to stay in your tent tonight, do I?”

  
  
Max muttered something as David got the shopping bags out of the car. He hadn’t given them to Max yet, but he did dig out the set of pajamas he had grabbed. Gwen leaned down closer to him, “Say again?” she growled.

  
  
“I’ll stay in my tent.” Max huffed and smacked her arm as she ruffled his hair to make it even messier.

  
  
“Max, wait.” David knelt down in front of him, holding out the bundle of blue flannels. “I know you lost some of your clothes in that backpack, so...here.”

  
  
The boy tucked his bear under his arm and took them slowly. David wondered if he would ever get used to being gifted things. He watched Max struggle internally, before David just gave him a nudge on his back. “Go on, get some sleep.”

  
He watched until he saw Max go inside his tent for certain, and reluctantly went back to the cabin with Gwen. 


	12. Chapter 12

The pajamas were soft and comfortable, and the first real new clothes he had gotten in a very long time, exempting the the hoodie his mother had sent for the appearance of normality. But even then, Max had trouble getting to sleep that night. Every time he closed his eyes, something made him lurch awake. He thought he heard a bear outside of his tent, clap of thunder despite a clear sky, or even thought someone was slowly pulling his blanket off. _You’re being paranoid, idiot.  
_  
  
Finally, he curled up tight, buried his face against Mr. Honeynuts and squeezed his eyes shut. Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to…  
_  
__  
__When Max woke up, he was confused. He opened his eyes to a purely white space. White hardwood floors, white painted walls with perfectly simple molding, a white desk, white bookcases. Anything that could be white was. And there was a familiar smell that always made him feel nauseous and his head hurt, but there was a little warning voice in his head not to cough and not to show it. Among the white, there were the gray ash colored curls of smoke from a cigarette as a large hand tapped ash off of it into a glass tray. Max watched out of the corner of his eye with his head down as he racked his brain for how he got there but it was painfully vague.  
_

_He was so tired. He just wanted to lay down so badly, but then a deep, commanding voice said, “Maximos.”  
__  
__  
__And Max sat ramrod straight in attention. He heard his father’s chair move and his heavy footsteps as he made his way to stand by his desk where he set down his ash tray. Max tried with all his might not to tremble. “I didn't do anythi--” he began, but went silent as his father simply caught his eye and raised his hand to show him the cigarette, his threat evident that if Max didn't keep his damn mouth shut that he would regret it. He'd hurt him. Max thought he could handle that, he was strong despite everything his father ever said but in truth he was afraid. He couldn’t stop tears from welling up and falling, and it was just made worse with Sunil's face contorted in disgust. “Stop that.”_ _  
__  
  
__“I can’t,” Max dared to lift his head up to look at him, the act alone enough to warrant his wrath. “I’m scared. You're scaring me, why wouldn't I be crying? It's not my fault. I can't help it!"  
__  
__  
__“No, you can’t. Y_ _ou're always sniveling for one reason or another, it doesn't matter what. You're just born that way; weak."  
__  
__  
__"Stop it. I'm not," he mumbled and he knew to talk back was stupid but he did it anyway. He flinched as his father slammed his hand down on his desk, the noise reminding him just how hard he could hit something. Someone.  
  
  
__“You should have died as an infant. It would have been the one thing you could have done right.”  
__  
__  
__“That's not fair…” He couldn’t keep up in class. He couldn’t stay awake. He drew attention, they called home and he had failed again to avoid suspicion. It was the fourth school they had pulled him out of. Deep down, he knew it was the last one. No one would ever see him in the public eye again. "I-I can do better."_ _  
__  
  
__“That’s what you always say, and you never do. But every soul deserves a chance to atone. And what’s the best way to become more pure, Maximos?”  
__  
__  
__Max kept staring at his bear, trying to remember something important. Something that would get him out of this. It was just at the very back of his mind, if he could just find it..._ _  
__  
  
  
__“How do you become pure?”  
  
__  
__  
__He knew the answer._ **Pain.** But he would not give it to him. _Max made a petty choice to stand up tall, look his father in his cold unfeeling eyes and say confidently, "You're crazy and I am **not** going to play your game."   
  
  
Sunil lunged for him and Max tried to jump off the chair and make a break for it out of the room but Sunil grabbed his arm and yanked him back so hard, pain laced through his shoulder as something popped in it. Max bit down on a whimper but held still. There was nowhere to go. It was going to be bad, but he wasn't going to say a word nor let him see his face. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that the hurt got to him. "Pants off."  
  
  
"No," he ground out.   
  
  
"Damn you, why can you never do as you're told?!"  
  
  
Max screamed at him to go to hell as his father forced him down onto the floor with a knee digging into his back, feeling like it was going to break his spine and he could only squirm and swear as his uniform pants were pulled down. His fingers clawed at the floor and tears blurred his vision as he tried to reach the arm of his bear where it had fallen, tried to get some form of reassurance as his father stood up. He grasped it and pulled it close, waiting for the belt to bite into his skin as he focused on the two button eyes that said everything would be over soon--  
  
_  
  
**Wait. When did he get his other eye back?  
  
  
Who fixed him?  
  
****  
**  
Max surged upright with a gasp, feeling like he had outrun a bear all over again. Narrowly escaping unharmed. He looked around frantically until he noticed his bear on the ground beside his bed and he snatched it up and hugged it immediately. “I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay,” he whispered to himself. _He’s not here. He can’t get me. David knows. Gwen knows. They're going to make sure he can't..._  
  
  
But no matter how he tried to convince himself he was safe, Max couldn’t rid himself of the looming sense of terror that hung over him. He could still feel his father’s boot on his neck, holding him in place for the incoming punishment. He couldn't stand this alone and he didn't want to wake up Neil either.  
  
  
Max shuddered as he got out of bed and grabbed the quilt out from under his cot. He wrapped himself up tightly in it and tiptoed out, relieved to hear his tent-mate snoring away like nothing was wrong.  
  


He must have been asleep for a while, because the counselor cabin windows were dark. They didn’t stay up too long after the kids, but usually Gwen was up longer than David. He almost considered going back to his tent, but he really couldn’t will himself to make the walk in the dark alone a second time. So he lifted his hand and knocked timidly on the cabin door.  
  
  
He was about to knock a little louder but then it opened. David was standing there, wearing a t-shirt and pajama pants but he didn’t look like he had been sleeping because he was also wearing a sweatshirt and holding a mug. Yeah, he was definitely wide awake. His counselor looked down at him with raised eyebrows and Max fumbled for an explanation but his lip started to wobble and he let out a terribly pitiful noise between a sob and a hiccup. “Hey,” David said quietly, kneeling down to his height and putting his mug down on the floor right away. Max glanced around him, seeing Gwen roll over in her bunk, apparently asleep. “Hey, come on, it's all okay. Max?”  
  
  
_Say something, loser_. But like it so often did nowadays, his voice was hiding.  
  
  
“Are you okay? Did you have a nightmare?” David asked, his brow furrowing as he started to reach out to him but on instinct, Max took a stumbling step back with a short cry of, _“No, don’t--!”_ because the fear was lingering.  
  
_  
_ And David froze immediately. Max hated how he was just staring at him with that stupid worried face. He hated that now when he was scared, his first thought was to go to David and then when his counselor tried to comfort him like he wanted him to, Max was afraid of him. _What the fuck is wrong with me? I can't be scared of David._   
  
  
Yet David remained patient and calm, as he gave no indication of being offended. "Hang tight on the porch, I'll be right back." he said.  
  
  
He waited as David grabbed his shoes and put them on, before stepping outside of the cabin with the electric lantern, setting it to a dim glow. He silently followed him as they began a quiet walk around the camp. About halfway through it, Max looked up at David, who smiled down at him with all the affection in the world to give. It was so shockingly different from when his father looked at him, if he was even acknowledging his existence. It was utter contempt on a good day.  
  
  
  
That hurt more than Max ever wanted to admit. His own dad didn't want him. Why?  
  
  
"He wishes I was never born,” Max whispered and David stopped. After a moment, he silently offered him his free hand. Max stared at it for a while, before he reached out and curled his fingers around David’s and they started walking again. “David, what’s _wrong_ with me?” he blurted out, a question he had asked himself many times but never asked anyone else. He was desperate to just _understand_. To know the reason for it all, maybe if he did he could change things. “Mom said that was the whole reason they got married was to have a _kid_ and then they had me but he decided I was fucking worthless. Why? What did I do?”  
  
  
David squeezed his hand reassuringly. “You didn’t do anything, Max. You’re not any different from me. Did I do anything to make my dad leave?”  
  
  
  
“No. You were a baby. Babies don't do anything."  
  
  
  
“So were you."  
  
  
That was a heartbreakingly good point. As he thought about it, Max tripped on the quilt edge but David held tight to his hand so he kept his balance. “Sorry,” he muttered. “My feet still hurt.”  
  
  
David let go of his hand and Max briefly got scared he was going to get annoyed with him, which was stupid. It was David. He looked up as David offered his arms out to him and after Max figured out what he was asking, he slowly raised his own so David could pick him up. Max put his arms around his counselor’s shoulders and watched the lake behind them, relieved to get off his feet. He really was still sore from his ‘adventure’. 

“You can’t hold yourself accountable for the cruelty of others,” David said quietly. “It isn’t your fault your parents don’t care or that they take out whatever is hurting them on you, Max. You’re their son, not their burden or the cause of their unhappiness or whatever they say to justify the things that they do. You didn’t ask to be born, Max. Nobody does, and nobody deserves to be punished for it.”  
  
  
  
It was like a kick in the stomach. He had spent so long wondering how it was his fault and justifying the rest with the notion that everyone was like his parents. Selfish people who only cared about themselves. But was that the life he wanted?  
  
  
  
He wondered if that had been his father’s goal. To condition him to believe there was no other version of the world than the one he preached, so Max would never dream of anything else. But the word had as much good in it as bad, didn’t it? There were people like his parents, and then...There was David and Gwen.  
  
  
He sank his teeth into his lip to try and hold back his tears as he buried his face against David’s shoulder, wanting to hide there forever where nothing bad would ever happen again. He couldn't stop from crying again. He felt like he was doing that all the time lately as all of his walls fractured and fell under the constant assault they were taking on all sides. He clung to David as tight as he possibly could with what little strength he had in his arms, desperate to feel like he wasn't falling into despair. “I want to stay with you guys." he sobbed out, his words barely intelligible even to his own ears. "I can't anymore. He's going to kill me if I go back, David, please don't let him take me back--"  
  
  
David hushed him gently as he carefully adjusted to holding him with one arm so he could open the cabin door and crossed the room to his own bunk while Gwen still slept on the other side. He didn’t protest it when David laid down in his bunk and kept him cradled against his chest comfortably, his ear right over his counselors heart beat and his arms and the blanket keeping him safe. The ominous shadow of the man who held such sway over him all his life was still there, as always, but now he felt like it couldn’t touch him. The even breathing and warmth soothed him to close his eyes as he felt his weariness full force. “I've got you. And I'm never going to let him hurt you again, Max."  
  
  
It was ridiculous. His father could kill David if he wanted to and it wasn't that simple. He had power, money, people, he was a relentless manipulator and David had no idea how far he would go just to satisfy his pride. Max had to get it from somewhere. “You can't. He's going to come after me."   
  
  
“Even if he does, I’ll protect you. I promised, remember?”  
  
  
"What if he hurts my mom?"  
  
  
David began to run his hand over his hair to try and calm him down, which helped the achiness that had formed with all of his crying. "The police are going to arrest him and they'll help her."  
  
  
"They've never helped before."  
  
  
"It's going to be different, Max, you'll see."  
  
  
Max was simply too drained to say anything else. After a moment, he heard David softly singing to him, no guitar, no one else to hear. A lullaby just for him. It wasn’t like any other songs he had heard his counselor play over the summer, it wasn’t even in a language Max understood. The melody was bitter sweet and calming, strange but in a good way. 

_“_ _O chì, chì mi na mòr-bheanna_

_O chì, chì mi na còrr-bheanna_

_O chì, chì mi na coireachan_

_Chì mi na sgoran fo cheò_

_Chì mi gun dàil an t-àite san d'rugadh mi_

_Cuirear orm fàilte sa chànain a thuigeas mi_

_Gheibh mi ann aoidh agus gràdh nuair a ruigeam_

_Nach reicinn air tunnachan òir.”_ _  
__  
  
_“What’s that mean?” Max murmured, sleep just around the corner.  
  
  
“It’s Scots Gaelic. It’s a song my mom sang. It’s kind of about going home.”  
  
  
“How does the rest go?”  
  
  
  
“ _Beanntaichean àrda is àillidh leacainnean_

_Sluagh ann an còmhnuidh is còire cleachdainnean_

_'S aotrom mo cheum a' leum g'am faicinn_

_Is fanaidh mi tacan le deòin…”_ _  
___  
  
Max nodded off while David was still singing. He didn't worry about how he was going to get prodded and interrogated by some random ass social worker, about how he had no idea where he was going to live in the foreseeable future or about how his friends were starting to view his constant absences and more. All Max knew was that for the first time in his life, he felt _truly_ safe and slept soundly for it.


	13. Chapter 13

It was the third visit from his case worker, and Max didn’t feel any more delighted to see her than the first two fucking times. David and Gwen had been allowed to stay with him for the initial interview. He hated that they would learn things he would rather keep hidden, but he knew that if they weren’t there, he would either say or do something stupid or just shut down all over again. But afterwards that allowance was cut off and he was isolated from them, despite David's best arguments that it was better if he stayed in the room. Max could only silently agree and be horribly disappointed when it wasn't going to happen.

  
He heard David say to her before Gwen walked him into the counselors cabin, where the meeting would be held, _“It’s easiest for him if he can keep his answers short.”_ and he felt a twinge of appreciation at that. If he could do this all through one of the counselors, it would be so much easier but he was at the whim of grownups now and he had to talk to whoever was getting paid to do it.

  
  
Thankfully, they had surpassed icebreaker bullshit with the “tell me about yourself” and were cutting to the point now with direct questions about his situation. Max was only relieved because he thought that it meant it would be done with soon.

  
  
“How well do you feel fed at home?” she asked him nicely, clicking her pen a few times before actually putting it to paper.

  
  
“Okay.”

  
  
“Just okay?”

  
  
“Uh...”

  
  
She patiently rested her clip board on her lap, never once changing her facial expression. “On a scale of one to ten, Max, how often would you say you go hungry?”

  
  
“I don’t know,” he mumbled, staring down at his bear. Gwen tucked his hair behind his ear, a silent gesture to encourage him to try again. “Seven, maybe? Eight? I’m used to feeling hungry, it doesn’t really bother me.”

  
  
She wrote something down and he pulled his feet up on the chair so he could huddle his knees to his chest. He didn’t like that she was taking notes he couldn’t see. “And are you left alone for extended periods of time? Extended means--”

  
  
“I know what extended fucking means, I'm not _stupid_."

  
"Of course you aren't, honey," _do **not** call me that shit. Gwen barely fucking gets away with it. _"So, are you? Left alone often?"  
  
  
Max completely put his head down at this point. He didn’t know where to start. His mother almost never went out, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t alone. He knew he was overthinking his answer _again,_ but once he started he couldn’t stop. The social worker prompted him a few more times but it felt like tapping an aquarium tank. It didn’t do anything to draw him out, it just caused him to retreat deeper. Finally, she closed up her folder and pulled out another paper. “Let’s move on from that one.”

  
  
“Sorry,” Max whispered quietly, just loud enough for the woman to hear. He couldn’t help but feel like he was screwing this up, after how hard they had tried to help him be ready for it.

  
"It's alright. Remember you aren't in trouble here, Max, all of this is to help you. You don't have to be worried about doing anything wrong."  
  
  
"I am, though, just by talking to you." it slipped out and he bit down hard on his tongue.   
  
  
"Why would talking to me be wrong?"  
  
  
He shut his eyes tight and she asked in an even softer voice, "Max, would someone at home be angry with you if they knew?"  
  
  
_"Yes,"_ he wobbled out the word with all the courage he could muster because he felt like his father was right there in the room, ready to crush out every little ounce of spirit he had left for his insolence. He loved that word. Insolent, ungrateful, parasitic. His father had so many synonyms to describe Max and if it didn't hurt like burning hot iron on his skin, he might think _oh, he's very well spoken_. That was one of the worst parts; he was intelligent and dignified, so of course no one suspected anything was ever amiss. "What would do you think they would do if they did know?"  
  
  
"I don't know," and that was the honest to God truth. "It's always different. But it's always bad, too."  
  
  
"Do they hit you?"  
  
  
"Yeah."  
  
  
"I'm sorry. You don't deserve that."  
  
  
"Can we stop?" He picked his head up, gasping it out with more volume than his pitiful whispered answers. "I want to stop."  
  
  
"Sure, you did really good today. Do you want me to go get your counselors?"  
  
  
He nodded silently as he pulled the quilt off of the back of his chair and covered his whole body in it, trying to hide from the world.

* * *

  
  
David would rather shut his hand in a door than shut it between him and Max when he felt the kid needed him, but he knew he had to do as the social worker said. He had to let her do her job. He had to pry Max's fingers open from his hand and gently push him away towards her with what he hoped were reassuring words but Max's tiny, delicate _don't go_ was a gutpunch. So when she reemerged from the cabin and told him he could go back inside, he scurried past her without so much as a polite word.

  
  
He saw Max's little form under the blanket in his chair and David's heart twisted. _He's shaking._ The man quietly knelt down by the chair and took the edge of his quilt, slowly lifting it up until he was eye to eye with Max and he smiled at him. "Well, hi there."  
  
  
"Hi..."  
  
  
"Doing okay?"  
  
  
Max opened his mouth to talk but then shut it with his jaw clenched tight as he began to shake his head, his eyes welling up with great big tears. He dropped his bear and reached out silently and David instantly took the space left in the chair to sit so he could sweep Max up close in his arms, blanket and all. He hushed Max's sniffling and rubbed his back firmly, trying to ease out every little bit of hurt he could but it would take so much more than this and so much more time. "He's gonna kill me," Max sobbed brokenly. "David, he's gonna _fucking kill me_ \--"  
  
  
"No, nothing like that is going to happen, Max," David adjusted the blanket so he was completely swaddled in it, using it as a shield. "Who's he?"  
  
  
"M-my..."  
  
  
"Your dad?"  
  
  
Max nodded in petrified silence and David made a silent note to talk to Campbell about maybe getting an _address_ for that man. "He's not going to do another bad thing to you ever again," he stayed calm and brushed his thumb over Max's cheek to wipe away his tears. "He's far away and you're here with us now. You're not going back."  
  
  
"But--"  
  
  
"But nothing, there's a warrant out for his arrest and you're officially the responsibility of the State of Oregon, meaning your parents have absolutely zero rights to you now. There is nothing they can ever do to take you back."  
  
  
"So I don't have to ta-alk about it anymore?" Max's voice hiccupped in the middle of his sentence and his little fingers dug into David's shirt, gripping the fabric for dear life like David would suddenly try to leave him.   
  
  
  


"I don't know about that, but you certainly don't have to _fight_ anymore. It's over, Max," his camper curled up in a tight little ball against his side, crying bitterly into his vest and David held him a little bit tighter, like he could keep every bad thing in the world at bay from him. "You're starting brand new."

  
  
After Max had gotten it all out of his system, David helped him onto his feet and guided him to the bathroom where he washed Max's face and gave him a glass of water. "I'm letting you get away with hugging me too much," Max muttered into the rim as he cooperatively drank it, his eyes still a bit puffy and his nose red from rubbing it. David chuckled and tucked a pack of travel tissues into Max's hoody pocket just in case he needed them, "Our secret, Max, I promise. Cross my heart."  
  
  
"Idiot," but his camper smiled as he made the gesture and shoved David's hands down to make him stop. "Where's Gwen?"  
  
  
  
"She's running activities, you want to go join in? No one's going to notice you were gone with all that mayhem."  
  
  
  
"Yeah, that'd...that'd be good." Max nodded tiredly and he finished his glass before giving it back. David pestered him for a few minutes about sunscreen but Max finally yelled at him to back the fuck off and took off out the front door back to the main body of camp. It warmed David's heart to see his old self reemerging from its coma.  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
"Christ's Sake, Davey."  
  
  
David blinked and stepped back wards and to the side to get a look at the shed door, still holding his fists up in position. "Oh, hi, Mister Campbell!"  
  
  
"Your kick is higher than my cholesterol."  
  
  
David sheepishly put his palm on the sparring bag to stop it's swinging, "It's not that high, I'm out of practice...Can't do an ax kick to save my life right now."  
  
  
"I thought you quit all that stuff when you started working here," Cameron dumped the boxes of baseball equipment to the side and grumbled quietly as he pressed his hands against his back, eliciting a few cracks that made David wince. "What's got you doing it again? Besides you training that little demon."  
  
  
"One, don't call him that. Two, it's just because I'm out of shape. I'm not sleeping well."  
  
  
"Well, which is it, are you out of shape or not sleeping well?"  
  
  
David grit his teeth and turned back to the bag to start hurling boxing punches into it, talking between blows. "Pick. One. Campbell."  
  
  
"Okay, okay, don't get all ruffled, Davey. You said you wanted to talk to me about something, so make it quick because I have to take my fourth break soon."  
  
  
"You get two breaks," David frowned over his shoulder at him.   
  
  
"What'd I say?" Cameron barely looked up from a beetle he was watching on the floor. "Five, whatever."  
  
  
"Two."  
  
  
"Thaaaat can't be right."  
  
  
"Ugh, never _mind_. I did want to talk to you, about Max and you can't bring it up to Gwen or him."  
  
  
Cameron finally looked up and crossed his arms, leaning against the worktable to show he was listening. David also found a wall to lean against because he had to focus on his words for this next part. "How did you find Max's dad?"  
  
  
"Old fashioned detective work, why?"  
  
  
"I don't believe you. How did you really?"  
  
  
Cameron rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably and shot David a sidelong look, "I hired a P.I."  
  
  
"A private investigator? How on earth did you pay them?"  
  
  
"I still have money squirreled away, not that you need to say it so loudly!"  
  
  
"Sorry, I won't say anything...that's probably a good thing but why?"  
  
  
"Gwen asked," he surprisingly got her name correct and it betrayed he was invested in the situation somehow. "If I'm going to spend what money I have left, it had better be on things that matter. It mattered."  
  
  
David was astonished and elated. It was a genuine act of goodness on his part, an effort to help one of the campers. He knew deep down Cameron was capable but he still wasn't prepared to be proven right. "What else did they find out?"  
  
  
"Ah, bareboned facts. Nothing that made the guy seem like someone I'd get drinks with, that's for sure. Max was born at South Memorial Hospital in Portland, his mother was sixteen and the kid pretty much evaporates from existence after that except for some pings at private schools and rich kid summer camps, until he got dumped here. His father is a legal immigrant with citizenship but as far as the P.I could tell, the mother is here illegally."  
  
  
_A child having a child. No wonder...No, you can't start making judgements, David._ "And Sunil?" he pressed. "Anything else about him?"  
  
  
"Not really. He's a priest, maybe Evangelical judging by the tacky use of white in his ensemble but it's a shot in the dark."  
  
  
"What about an address, Mister Campbell? A house? A church he runs?"  
  
  
Cameron stood away from the table and shook his head, pointing a finger at David, "Nope. You knock that off." he said firmly.  
  
  
David balked, spitting out "Knock what off?" Because he was too worked up to slow down now.  
  
  
"Davey, I get it. You care about that kid for whatever damn reason and it's so wholesome and gushy it's going to give me a blood sugar problem. Someone hurt him, you want to hurt them back for it. You want accountability or revenge or something in that element, but it's not going to be worth it. You find him and what will you do? What you've done to that sorry thing?" he gestured to the sparring bag and David quickly side stepped to hide its condition behind him. "How is it going to help Max if you're in prison?"  
  
  
"I'm not going to end up--"  
  
  
"Yes, you will, because I know you. I watched you grow up and I did pay a little bit of attention, you know...You'll see that man and you'll go crazy and he won't stand a chance. You might feel good about it for a few seconds but in the end, you just committed second degree assault, maybe attempted murder if they _crucify_ you in the litigations. So you'll go to jail for years. And by the time you get out, even on good behavior because I know you will, Max will have aged out of the system and you wouldn't have been there for him even once through it all. It's not worth it, _believe_ me...Let it go." Cameron stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a little shake to make sure he was getting the point and as much as David hated it, he did. "And throw that damn thing away." Cameron added, pointing to the bag. "It's gross and depressing."  
  
  
"It's lucky," David muttered and managed a smile when Cameron snickered. "Athletes. You have superstitions like sailors."  
  
  
"Thanks, Mister Campbell. I..." David hesitated. "I feel better."  
  
  
"Good, because I was a hundred percent talking out of my ass." Cameron clapped him on the back hard enough to wind him a little and promptly took his leave. "Going on break!"  
  
  
"Okay. Enjoy your break."  
  
  
_Pick your battles, David._


	14. Chapter 14

It had been a rocky two weeks for Max. Every other night, he came tapping on the cabin door with the most miserable and heartbroken face to crawl into David’s bed for protection against his nightmares, never uttering a word about their contents. It got to a point where they stayed up to expect him so he wouldn't feel bad about waking them up when he knocked. But on the nights when he was the most upset, she heard him talking to David in hushed little whispers, asking him to sing something, anything so he wasn't thinking about his dreams. And David never denied him, always kneeling by the bed and singing sweet songs and lullabies until Max fell back asleep and David retreated to his arm chair for the night. He never complained.   
  
Still, it didn't stop him from snarling at David and pointing a betrayed finger in his direction. “You’re going to leave me alone with _that?_ ”

  
As the end of summer drew nearer with the promise of a foster home, Max's mental state seemed to grow more tenuous and Gwen knew that wasn't the only reason for the increase in his troubled sleep. He was terrified of what his birth father would do if he ever found him but _he's not going to find him_. She was going to do everything to be prepared for that risk. Gwen checked her purse for everything she needed, "It's just a job interview, Max, I need to work somewhere the other nine months of the year." she said, lying more smoothly than she felt right about. 

  
  
“I’m just--” he started with an anguished tone, obviously believing her and not having a logical argument. “I’m gonna be so _bored_ while you’re gone.”  
  
  
“It’s one day. Here, surprise for ya.” She reached into her desk and produced a newly repaired phone, with a pine tree sticker. “Courtesy of Neil, absolutely no sentient modifications. If you’re really that miserable, text me.”

  
  
Max took the phone, still not looking happy but he didn’t argue with her anymore. He just unzipped the new pocket Mr. Honeynuts was equipped with and put the phone inside, then zipped it shut safe and sound. “Fine. Don’t drive off a cliff or whatever.”

  
  
“ _Oof_ , I don’t know. That’s so tempting.”  
  
  
Max cracked a teeny tiny smile and she mussed up his hair some more, “You’re in charge while I’m gone, Satan.”  
  
  
She stood up straight to walk away but stopped and looked down as two little arms encircled her, stopping her faster than a brick wall in her face. It was a record breaking two seconds it lasted before Max let her go and turned his back on her, not willing to acknowledge what he had just done or just what it meant to him but she was absolutely reeling. Max hugged her, willingly, of his own volition. Was hell freezing over?  
  
  
She looked at her co counselor for an opinion and saw David was making the _stupidest_ fucking face. Feeling all warm and fuzzy, Gwen waved him to follow her as she headed out to his car. He was lending it to her and she didn’t trust it to start if anyone but him messed with it.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
It was a long ass drive to the Portland area. David finished making sure the car started, since he had the magic touch and stepped out of the car with a goofy smile. “It’s all yours, Gwenny.”  
  
  
“You’re in a remarkably good mood, even for you.” she said, tossing her purse into the passenger seat. Even with how rough things were with Max, David seemed less affected by it but rather more confident in how to handle it.  
  
  
She watched him fidget and bounce on his feet, waiting until he obviously couldn’t hold in whatever secret it was any more. “Well, I guess now that it’s official, there’s no harm in telling anyone.”  
  
  
“Now that what’s official?”  
  
  
“You know Crossroads Elementary, in town? I applied for a position there before the summer and they emailed me a this morning.”  
  
  
Gwen felt just a hint of giddy hope. David mostly did whatever grunt job he could find during the year. He was a college graduate, he had a degree for teaching music which was what he always wanted to do but that job market was tough. “...No fucking way. You got it?”  
  
  
He nodded, smiling wider. She could see how overjoyed he was and wondered how he, the bubbliest person she knew, possibly could have kept a lid on this news for more than ten minutes. He probably wanted to focus on other things, but Gwen wasn’t having it. She was thrilled for David, he _deserved_ this and she had no doubt it was his calling. “You’re a teacher,” she said it just to confirm it out loud and he let out a breathless, “Yeah, I am!”  
  
  
“ _You’re a teacher!_ Holy shit, Dave, that’s amazing!” She didn’t care if it was over the top, she just threw her arms around his shoulders and hugged him tightly, feeling him almost go over with the force of it. Then he surprised her by wrapping his arms around her waist and spinning her around once like she weighed nothing at all, laughing as he set her back down on her feet with gentle ease. “I-I didn’t think I’d get it…” he admitted.  
  
  
“That’s the district Max will be living in, right? Can he be enrolled there?”  
  
  
“Uh, actually, he might have to be home schooled for a bit. He has a lot to catch up on. But we’ll talk about it when you get back.” David smiled down at her, and she couldn’t help but return it. It was infectious. She lingered for a bit, resting her arms comfortably around his neck. She could feel warm weight of his palms against her waist still.  
  
  
He must have realized at the same time she did that what they were doing and he stepped back as she did. He coughed awkwardly, running a hand through his hair and stepping out of her way so she could get into the car. “Can you, um, call me when you’re on your way back?”  
  
  
Gwen shut the door but kept the window rolled down so he could hear her. “S-sure.”  
  
  
“Be safe, okay?”  
  
  
“I will be.”  
  
  
That was what she had told him, but she didn’t know how confidently she did. The truth was, she had no idea what she was thinking when two and a half weeks ago, she sat down and wrote a letter by hand. She knew some people in Portland, online friends, who were willing to deliver it for her to the place that she sent it to, just to make sure it didn’t end up read by the wrong person. That was the most important thing, that the _only_ person who saw it was who it was addressed to. It was a careful project.  
  
  
She had no idea what the hell she had done until she got a letter back, asking to meet in person. Just those words. “ _Please let us talk._ ” And an address enclosed with it.  
  
  
Gwen followed the GPS to the address given, and pulled into the nearest parking spot. It was the outskirts of the city, in the wealthier suburbs, with the appeal of a small town but without actually being one, and the address had taken to her to some rundown little coffee shop.  
  
  
God, she wanted a smoke so badly. But she promised David. She couldn’t even if she wanted to, because she had thrown them all away just as he had asked her.  
  
  
Gwen got out of the car and locked it, taking a look around before she headed inside. The place was relatively busy but not loud, and she realized why it was chosen. It was discreet. Gwen scanned the various tables until she spotted one in the far corner.   
  


A woman about her age, dark brown skin, a modest white dress and her curly black hair framing her face, parted at the side and almost reaching her shoulders with a little gold pin that held her fringe out of her eyes. She was sitting over a cup of coffee that looked untouched, and was tapping her fingers on it anxiously before she began to pick at her nails and cuticles.  
  
  
Is that where Max got that shitty habit?  
  
  
Gwen walked up to her, her shoes clicking sharply on the floor just under the coffee house chatter. She didn’t want to storm up, but she strode with **intent** up to the table and sat down without an introduction. She was absolutely certain it was her.  
  
  
“Rishima?”  
  
  
It was fucking _unnerving_ how much Max resembled her. Same rounded face and cool jade green eyes, same wavy dark hair. It was unreal that she was really in front of Gwen in person, this boogeyman figure who just looked like some delicate 50’s housewife stereotype. Gwen had expected someone more sinister, but she was just a scrawny girl the same age as her, looking like she wanted to appear as small as possible, if not disappear entirely. “Yes?” she replied, her voice as dainty as she looked.  
  
  
“I’m Gwen.” she introduced herself curtly. She stared Rishima down until the other woman just looked down at her coffee again until she asked timidly, “Would you like a coffee?” And Gwen could hear her faded but still defined Indian accent.  
  
  
“Not if you’re paying.”  
  
  
“I...I understand.”  
  
  
“Oh, _do_ you now?”  
  
  
“You know my son? Maximos?”  
  
  
_That can’t seriously be his full name._ “Yeah. I know your _son_. We’re pretty close. I’ve been one of the people taking care of him for two fucking months. You want to know what that’s like?” Gwen had rehearsed this, but she was going off script. She **hated** this woman. She hated that she pitied her, when Max was the one who suffered the most for whatever her problem was.  
  
  
Rishima stammered as she sat back in her seat to try and distance herself from Gwen’s wrath but there was no getting away from it. Gwen just went full steam ahead. “I make sure he eats his breakfast, I put band aids on his knees, I buy him shoes when he needs them and give him fucking hot chocolate and stay up late with him when he’s sad. I stayed at his bedside while he was in the goddamn hospital almost _dying--_ ”  
  
  
“He was in the hospital?”  
  
  
Gwen didn’t believe the horror in her voice for a second. She thought it was an act at first, but her reaction seemed so genuine that it gave Gwen pause. But all bets were off, now that she finally had a target for her rage and she wasn’t stopping now. “Yeah, Rishima, he was in the hospital. He cut his foot and because you two morons didn’t get him a tetanus shot, he was there for over a week in excruciating pain, crying for _you._ ” Gwen was shaking with anger, after having bottled it up for so long. She kept hearing Max asking for his mother those terrible first nights as the fever overwhelmed him, when he wouldn’t accept pain medication and cried himself out until he was able to sleep. “And we couldn’t call you. Why didn’t you leave a number? An emergency contact? Didn’t you give a damn if something happened to him? Because things _have_ happened! I could be here to tell you that you don’t **have** a son anymore.”  
  
  
By then, Max’s mother had her elbows on the table and face in her hands. Gwen waited for her to say something, anything, as Rishima avoided her gaze. And then she finally said very softly, “I would like to buy you a coffee, Gwen. Please.”  
  
  
Gwen let her order a mocha for her, but she let it grow cold in front of her as she did her best to bore a gaze into Rishima’s face. It was a long time before the silence was broken, as the woman nervously asked, “I-I have pictures of Max, would you like to see?”  
  
  
Gwen did want to see them, actually. “Uh-- sure.”  
  
  
Rishima reached into her purse and took out a bundle of beat up photographs. She set them on the table with shaking fingers and as she leaned in, her sleeve pushed up. Gwen could see discolored spots on the inside of her arm, crowded over a bruised vein at the inside of her elbow. _Oh.  
_  
  
That had to be it. That was why Max hated the I.V, that was why he refused anything for the pain and why he hated taking the antibiotics so much. He already had a bad idea about anything that game from a needle or altered someone chemically.  
  
  
Gwen took the first picture and glanced down at it. She had no idea what to make of this one; it looked like something made by special effects, not by two human people.  
  
  
“He doesn’t look real, does he?” Rishima said. “That’s what I thought.”  
  
  
“This is _Max?_ ”  
  
  
“Yes. One week old.”  
  
  
He was so unbelievably tiny and frail looking, and too skinny for a newborn baby. He had a little blue hat, but no onesie, since he appeared to have a heart monitor adhered to his little chest, and some kind of respiratory support over his face that resembled a smaller, more complicated oxygen mask. David said most premature babies grew up normal, but she just doubted it. Looking at how hard the beginning of his life was and everything that followed up after, Gwen dreaded that Max might never really recover.   
  


“It was my fault, you know.” Rishima whispered.  
  
  
Gwen hadn’t expected to hear her admit any blame. Rishima looked over the other photos, with an expression she couldn’t read. There wasn’t...affection. But there was guilt. “I never wanted him.”  
  
  
“That’s a fucking horrible thing to say!”  
  
  
“I know. But it’s true. I never wanted to be a mother, I never wanted a baby but Sunil-- that was _all_ he wanted. I was a stupid girl who let a powerful old man trick me into thinking he meant it when he said he loved me. He got me to give up school and my life in India for him. I was completely his, and I didn’t know it until it was too late to leave. He said he would let me after the baby was born, if I still wanted to go.”  
  
  
“How old were you?” Gwen dared to ask. She wanted to know just how deep this screwed up story ran.  
  
  
“When I had Max? Sixteen.”  
  
  
_How did anyone just_ ** _let_** _this shit happen?  
_  
  
She let Gwen look over the rest of the pictures. If she had to guess, they were between newborn to two years. By year one, he had a full head of black hair, just like he did now and was going to town on a teething toy in the shape of a dragonfly as he tried his darn best to cram its entirety into his mouth like a squirrel. And around age two, he had Mr. Honeynuts and was holding the bear by the arms, trying to teach it to walk, which he had likely just mastered. That was Gwen’s favorite, and that was what made her choke up. He looked so sweet and he was just a _baby_ who had no idea that anything bad was about to happen. “How could you not love him?” She asked.  
  
  
“I did, eventually...I do.” Rishima admitted, “It wasn’t his fault who his father was. In a way, we only had each other and it was my fault how much he suffered when he was born, I wanted to make it up to him but…”  
  
  
“You mean being premature? How was it your fault?”  
  


“I...I just wanted to forget what was happening. And I found a way to do that.”  
  
  
“What did you take, Rishima?”  
  
  
“Things for pain. Morphine...Heroin after a while.”  
  
  
“While you were _pregnant?”  
__  
_  
Rishima nodded and put her face in her hands again, and Gwen almost felt bad for her. What was it like? Being a teenage girl manipulated and abused by someone she trusted? She didn’t start out as a monster. She was made that way by the original, and Gwen didn’t know if she could have coped either. It sounded like a nightmare, but there wasn’t an option to wake up. “I went into labor too early and they couldn’t stop it. Sunil wanted a perfect baby but he wasn’t perfect. At first, he just ignored him and it was fine, but then he started…”  
  
  
“He started hitting Max. We know. We’ve seen.” Gwen had finally seen the picture. She had to leave the cabin; she didn’t want David see her reaction.  
  
  
“No, it was more than that! Sunil never does anything without a reason, he always has some kind of _plan_. He thought he could fix Max, by-- by breaking him down and remaking him.”  
  
  
_What the_ ** _fuck_** _is wrong with these people?!  
__  
__  
_ “But Max just never broke. I don't know where on earth he found it in him to do it but he's resisted Sunil every step of the way. He's always tried to get between him and me, he's tried every way he could to rebel and the more he did, the angrier Sunil became. If something wasn't done...” She didn’t finish the sentence. She took a deep breath and looked Gwen in the eyes for the first time. They were so piercing in their color and intensity, Gwen felt physically unable to blink or avert her own. “So I sent him away, and I didn’t want him to be able to come back or for Sunil to find him."  
  
  
“Why didn’t you call the police? Or do it sooner, at somewhere that made more _sense_ , like a fire station?” Gwen demanded, appalled. Maybe this woman just wasn’t wired right.  
  
  
“You don’t understand, Sunil is _Father_ Sunil. He’s a pillar in the community, anyone would recognize his son and nobody would believe he was capable of hurting us. And-- and I’m not...I’m not in this country _legally_. I don’t have much money besides what Sunil gives me.”  
  
  
_So she’s completely dependent on Sunil. He’s not just a sadist, he’s a smart one. Fucking great_. Gwen put the picture down with a snap. “So you’re abandoning him.” she deadpanned. She didn't want her to keep Max, but somehow it just made things worse that she was just giving up on him completely, that she didn't even try to stay with her child. “ Why did you want to talk to me, Rishima? I’m not really getting a sense you want to be penpals.”  
  
  
She watched Rishima look around the shop without turning her body, a very discreet motion and it made Gwen give a glance around as well. She was just studying the door when Rishima spoke again, “I wanted to _warn_ you, Gwen.”  
  
  
“ ‘Scuse me?” Gwen looked back at her sharply. “Warn me about _what?_ ”  
  
  
“Whether or not Sunil loves Max is beside the point. Max is his heir, and he won’t abide being insulted by someone taking him away.”  
  
  
“What is this, medieval Europe? Heir to what?”  
  
  
“The church.” Rishima answered simply. “Whatever happens to Maximos now, if he finds a new family and is happy, it won’t matter if they find him. They will take him back and there will not be a second chance for freedom, they need him for something. I don't know what."  
  
  
Gwen felt a prickle on her neck and resisted the urge to look over her shoulder. She couldn’t but feel less and less safe in this place she had never been, where no one knew her and so none of them would know if something had happened. She always got a bad vibe from everything about Sunil, his supposed clergy life with no identifying characteristics to what religion he preached and how closed off the community that followed him was. There was a nagging voice that she strained to hear clearly, but she just hadn’t cracked whatever was bothering her yet. She only knew she was missing something to the puzzle.  
  
She watched Rishima grow quiet and slowly start to stand up, but Gwen was quicker and stepped in front of her. _This shit has got to end._ “Rishima, my car is right outside. If you come with me now, nobody could stop us. I can get you away from your husband, we can _help_ you. Maybe you and Max would have a chance! I can tell you love him--”  
  
  
“Please let me pass, Gwen.”  
  
  
“What is Sunil going to do when he finds out what you’ve done?”  
  
  
“It doesn’t matter now.”  
  
  
She had misunderstood her. Rishima was no saint, but she was a prisoner like Max had been. And she was trying to get Max out. She was trying to _save_ him, however much she had fucked up, Gwen could see that. She reached out and took her hand, and Rishima flinched but Gwen wasn’t letting go, even if people were looking. “Don’t throw your life away for a piece of shit of a guy. You have a son that loves you despite all the shit he’s been put through. I don’t know if you can get custody of him back, but you could at least be able to visit. Help him understand that you aren’t giving him away because you hate him!”  
  
  
“I _don’t_ hate him!”  
  
  
“Well, he’s dead certain you do!”  
  
  
_“He’s better off without me!”  
__  
_  
Okay, now everyone was really staring. Gwen let her hand go, as Rishima wrapped her arms around herself. She awkwardly picked up their purses and began to guide her out of the coffee shop and Rishima let her steer them around the corner of the building into a more private space. She watched her lean against the wall and try to choke back her tears, clutching the picture of newborn Max and crumpling it as she did. “I just want him to be happy,” she whispered brokenly. “To be safe. He’s never been those things. I never gave them to him, I _can’t_. I love him but it’s not enough…I don't know how to take care of him. I don't know how to help him when he's afraid. He needs someone who can actually raise him."  
  
  
“You were young,” Gwen interrupted her, keeping her voice soft and quiet. “You had no idea how to be a mom. And how could you learn?”  
  
  
“I hurt him. I didn’t mean to…”  
  
  
“Rishima, I’m not here to absolve you. I’m here because I care about Max and I wanted to know what the best thing to do for him is. I can’t force you to leave Sunil, and I won’t start a bunch of shit that could get you in a worse place than you are. But you know where Max is and-- and here, I’ll give you my number.”  
  
  
“Oh, I-I don’t have a phone.”  
  
  
_Weird_. “Email?”  
  
  
“No internet. We're...off grid."  
  
  
_Weirder_. Gwen took out her phone and scrolled through her photos, then gently put a hand on Rishima’s shoulder. “Hey. Do you want to see him?”  
  
  
She sniffled and slowly turned around huddling her hands over her heart as she looked over. Gwen had compiled some more pictures of Max at camp, with his friends, smiling as he was walking and talking with David, the picture from the nature hike. “We were telling him stories, and he fell asleep. That’s David, my co-counselor. He’s been Max’s biggest fan since day one.” She explained.  
  
  
“He’s smiling so much,” Rishima said breathlessly, clearly unable to believe it.  
  
  
“Yeah. It took him a bit to open up to us, but he and David are pretty close now. He’s happy, Rishima, when he can be...When is his birthday?”  
  
  
She looked up at Gwen, as she handed her phone back to her. “N-November eighteenth but we don't celebrate it."  
  
  
“Is there anything you want me to tell him?”  
  
  
“No...No, I just want him to move on and forget.”  
  
  
“Rishima.” Gwen hardened her tone. “He’s **never** going to forget and he went so long not asking for our help because he was scared what your husband would do to you. Are you sure there’s nothing else to say?”  
  
  
She watched Rishima think about it until she looked down and asked in the smallest, softest voice, “May I send you another letter if I change my mind?”  
  
  
“Sure. But I might not give it to him.”  
  
  
"Thank you."  
  


* * *

  
  
Gwen drove back to Sleepy Peak in a daze, along dark back country roads and long lonely highways. She was reeling from the experience. Rishima was everything she had feared and nothing she expected, and she had gained a new insight to what Max’s childhood must have been like. Being raised by what was essentially _another_ mistreated child, who then was never able to grow and step up to the task of motherhood. Gwen resented her for taking part in traumatizing him. And she resented that at the same time, she felt bad for Rishima and wanted to help her.  
  
  
If it was her kid, Gwen thought-- no, she knew she would fight tooth and nail for them. And nothing could stop her.  
  
  
Or could it?  
  
  
She had never been through anything like what Rishima had been. She’d had shitty boyfriends but it never got too far. Truth was, when she looked at Max’s mother, she saw the potential of someone’s spirit just **breaking**. Is that what would have happened to Max if he had been there much longer? Just who the **hell** was his father? 

  
Gwen was ready to drop when she got back to camp, but she saw in the counselor cabin windows that David had his desk lamp on. Gwen quietly stepped inside, feeling ready to burst and just tell him everything that had happened. She just wanted David to do the magical thing where he found the right word or touch to make it all bearable again, but her gaze focused first on his bed.  
  
  
“Hey...Sorry, I forgot to call. Another nightmare?” She asked in a whisper, not wanting to wake Max, who seemed sound asleep and tucked into David’s bed yet again. David was going through what looked like paper work on his desk, and he glanced up with a weary smile. She knew he had been worried, and felt a jab of guilt for it. “It’s okay, Gwen. He’s been asleep for almost an hour. How’d it go?”  
  
  
She stupidly hesitated, and it gave her away. He was already putting down his pen, “...Not good?”  
  
  
Gwen shook her head no, and David instantly began to put away his project. “You want to go talk out front?”  
  
  
She dumped her stuff on her bed and went back outside, sitting down on the front porch and taking her hair out of its ponytail. She ruffled her hands through it with a groan, rubbing her fingers into her scalp but it didn’t ease her headache much. David came out shortly after, dragging the comforter from her bed and he plunked down next to her and put it around the two of them. “You should wear a sweater. It’s getting colder, you know.”  
  
  
“Yeah, yeah.” she muttered but it was starting to get chilly at night, and she was grateful for it.  
  
  
“Are you finally going to tell me what the mysterious Gwen has been up to lately?”  
  
  
“The mysterious Gwen,” she repeated, reaching into her pocket and producing a folded paper. He just leaned his cheek in his hand, elbow on his knee and smiled at her expectantly. _Goofball._ Without a word, she handed the paper to him and he took it. “What’s this?” he asked.  
  
  
Rishima had let her keep the pictures. She saw David’s features shift at first to surprise, then a little happiness and then a mixture of confusion and suspicion. He flipped it over to read the other side. _Max_ _, 2 years_ _._ “Where did you get this?”  
  
  
“He’s pretty cute, right? Look how round his cheeks are. I’m gonna start calling him hamster or something.”  
  
  
“ _Where_ , Gwen?”  
  
  
He didn’t sound angry, just a little scared. She looked straight ahead, where the stars reflected slivers of silver light on the lake and the swaying shadows of the trees covered the landscape beyond. “Max’s mom…”  
  
  
And she told him everything. Every chilling truth she had learned, the kind of woman Max’s mother was. That she was young and an addict and way in over her head, that she never stood a chance and neither did her son. That it was her that signed Max up for camp and sent him away without means of getting in touch with his parents, because that had been the goal all along. And the whole time, he was pretty quiet except for the few clarification questions.  
  
  
“Break him down and remake him. That’s exactly what she said, David. Max’s dad is a _fucking madman._ And he has money and blind religious devotion to protect him.” she twisted a patch of the blanket in her hands, gripping it so tight that her knuckles were turning white. “She told me that if he or his church of what I assume are _lunatics_ found Max, it would be over for him. I don’t know if she meant they would kidnap him or worse, but…”  
  
  
“So that’s why she didn’t leave any information with him. God,” David put his face down in his hands, “What are we going to tell him?”  
  
  
Gwen did a double take. He wasn’t serious, right? Max could never know these things, he would only blame himself and try to get involved. “We aren’t telling him _shit!”  
__  
__  
_ “He’s asked me half a dozen times why he was left here! Maybe if he knew his mom did it to try to _save_ him--”  
  
  
“Then he might run away and try to go back to her, or he might be even more confused or it’ll just be another thing that breaks his heart. I’m not fucking doing it, David. I wish I could help Rishima and I wish I could wave a magic wand and make her capable of loving him properly and they can be a happy family, but it just isn’t going to happen. She needs a lot of help herself. I don’t think she’s a monster, but she’s no mother and Max...I think she was right. I think maybe he is better off without her, with a fresh start with good people.”  
  
  
“So we hide the truth from him? You know if he found out, he might never forgive us.”  
  
  
“Just because he hates us for doing it doesn’t mean it’s the wrong call.”  
  
  
That seemed to touch a nerve with David, as he huffed a little and looked away from her, his jaw set tightly. He silently handed the picture back to her, and Gwen put it away. She thought about if it would be weird to keep it in her wallet or something. “David--”  
  
  
“I won’t tell Max.” he said, his voice barely audible. “And I get it, Gwen...I’m just scared for him.”  
  
Gwen pulled her knees up to her chest with a shiver, and adjusted the blanket. “Me, too.”  
  
  
Silence hung between them, and the blanket shifted slightly and Gwen felt a new weight on her shoulders as her friend put his arm around her. Her heart thumped a little harder. She was trying her best to not think about how he smelled like fresh cedar and faint campfire smoke. And something sweet. Apples, maybe? Gwen decided to just lean into it and rested her head against the crook of his neck with an exhausted sigh. She needed this, they both did.  
  
  
They sat there for a while, and it wasn’t as awkward as she expected. But in perfect sync, they both lifted their heads and looked through the screen door when they heard a plaintive sound. Unmistakably Max’s voice, and they both got up right away, but Gwen was the first inside.  
  
  
First off, he was still asleep and that was a relief. But he was flinching in his sleep. His arms jerked and his face was tensing up, and he occasionally made some kind of frightened noise or almost said something but it was never defined. David began to say, “Max, it’s just a--” but Gwen hushed him instinctively. She understood why he might try to wake him, but she wanted to try something else first if they could.  
  
  
So he waited patiently as she sat down on the edge of the bed and just laid her hand on Max’s forehead, smoothing his hair and gently petting his cheek. Something her mom did. Letting her know she was there in the smallest but most meaningful way. She was terrified it wouldn’t work, that she didn’t have that same magical touch her mom did but then Max began to grow quiet. And then he was laying still again, breathing normally.  
  
  
Then he smiled the tiniest smile in his sleep and Gwen felt like her heart was going to burst, it was so full. _Holy shit, I did it!_ If only she could add it to the wall of victories. He slowly rolled over and curled up around his teddy bear, and Gwen adjusted his quilt around him so he was still nice and snug.  
  
“Awww…”  
  
  
“Shut up, David.”


	15. Chapter 15

Max kept curling and uncurling his fingers into a tight fist, trying to get his hand to stop shaking. He hated this. Max thought that if anything, he should have more control over his anxiety now that there was truly a movement to protect him. He wasn’t going back, his father couldn’t hurt him anymore and he would get to stay close to David.  
  
But Gwen didn’t live in Sleepy Peak. She didn’t even live in Oregon, she was from northern California and when summer ended, she would _leave._ It wasn’t that Max thought she would just ditch him, he knew better now. She would make as much effort to call and text him, even visit if she could during the spare moments of her busy overworked young adult life. But it wouldn’t be the same. He couldn’t just walk across the yard to come knocking on her door when he needed her. She couldn’t hold his hands and remind him in person how to breathe when he fucking broke down in another episode.  
  
And the idea of losing that safety net, of realizing he was walking straight into a life he had never lived before where his carefully constructed defenses couldn’t apply and he had no idea what to expect just had Max reeling.  
  
“You do realize it’s a screen door, right? I can see you.”

“Shit.”  
  
He didn’t want to just walk away and give up. She would probably come after him later on or worse, send David to check on him and that was fine. It was comforting to know they wouldn’t just brush him off, that they cared enough to follow up when something was going on. What Max worried about was lacking the bravery to go to them in the first place from now on. He wanted to stop being _scared._  
  
He pulled open the screen door, the same note that it creaked with memorized in his ears. It was always the same. Gwen was writing in her journal, which she quickly closed and shoved into her desk when he came in. Normally he would’ve have something to say, some underhanded taunt but that wasn’t why he was here. He looked around, and noticed there was a duffel bag on her bed, and some half folded clothes beside it.  
  
That hurt a little bit. She was already packing. Maybe not because she couldn’t wait to go, but just because she was organized. Still, Max didn’t like seeing the beginning of what felt like the end.  
  
“Hey,” Gwen interrupted his thoughts and he turned towards her, but didn’t look up. “What’s going on? Still worried?”  
  
Worried was an understatement. Max shrugged silently, but willingly obeyed when she gestured for him to move closer to her. He didn’t even protest as Gwen picked him up and set him down on her desk, where he normally sat when they talked. Or argued. Or he got caught snooping and she lectured him. But it made him feel better to be more at her level, rather than looking up at her. He swung his feet idly and started to pick at his fingers again, scratching at the cuticle of his thumb before she reached over and stopped him. “Max.”  
  
“I don’t know what I’m going to do when you’re gone.” he blurted it out quietly, but it was the truth and he felt it more sharply than ever. From the start, Gwen had tried to look out for him, even if he didn’t see it. But differently than David did.  
  
She called him out on his shit. She pushed him to look at himself and his actions objectively, challenged his perception of himself and it was that contest of wills that pushed him to want to be better. It was a different way of being told to prove himself, that lifted him up rather than put him down, unlike the only other force of rigid order he had known. Gwen commanded respect, not fear.  
  
He could feel her eyes on him, as she opened her desk drawer and pulled out a book, but it had no title. It had a little latch with a lock and a tiny key hanging off the spine that she used to open it. It resembled her journal, with a bound cover and lined blank pages that she thumbed through for a moment. “Gwen?”  
  
“This is for you,” she said, snapping it shut and offering it to him.  
  
“You’re...giving me a diary?” he asked flatly, and took it when she jabbed him in the chest with it. _What am I supposed to with this?_ _  
__  
_ “I started keeping journals when I was a little older than you. They were my way to talk about what was going on with me, what I needed to get out without giving up my privacy. They let me get out of my own head. Max, I function in a mixture of self-help, medication and therapy. It’s different for everyone. Maybe it will help you, I don’t know.” Gwen reached over and touched her fingers under his chin, gently guiding him to look at her and he did. He wondered about her. What were her parents like? How did she grow up? Did something happen to make her need these things to get by or was it just how she was wired?  
  
All he knew was that if he didn’t have her guidance, he’d be more of a wreck than he already was. “What if it doesn’t? Can’t I just…” he trailed off.  
  
“Can’t you what?”  
  
“...go to California with you…”  
  
“ _Jesus_ , Max.”  
  
“I’m sorry! I know it’s fucking stupid.” his eyes stung and he dug his fingernails into the soft faux leather cover of the journal. She had enough problems, and her own life. Of course she wouldn’t want him.  
  
“Hey, if I could steal you and get away with it, I would. At least my life wouldn’t be boring ever again. But I work and go to school full time, Max, and I don’t even have a space for you to sleep and I’m a piece of work on my own. I’d be the _worst_ foster mom.”  
  
“No, you wouldn’t.” he mumbled. He didn’t believe that, not one bit. “You’d kick ass. I wouldn’t even really need you to take care of me, I can make my own food and put myself to sleep and--”  
  
“If you did live with me, I’d want to make you lunch and say good night to you and pick you up from school. But I wouldn’t be able to do those things, and that’s why it can’t happen. It wouldn’t be fair to you. The whole point is that you get to be the kid now!”  
  
_“But I don’t know how to fucking do that!_ ”  
  
When he shouted it, he chucked the book onto the floor in his rage and as he glared down at it, he felt like throwing something else. He wanted to just scream and tear down and break everything around him, but Gwen’s hand on his back instead made him close his eyes and _breathe._ “Pick it up. I have an idea.” She said, giving him a pat.  
  
Confused but trusting her, he did and they sat together as she turned to the first few inside pages. She helped write down the things she had taught him. The four, seven, eight breathing method, how to remember to be present in the moment and a new one called HALT. Asking himself if he was hungry, angry, lonely or tired. It would help him learn what upset him in particular. She also wrote down some advice for him when he was having a hard time. That he had two options, to de-isolate himself or take a time out when he was feeling destructive. To crumple up paper or yell into a pillow to get it out of his system. Things she had told him to try before and that did help, but now he would have something tangible to remind him while she was away.  
  
“You can always use these. And if they don’t work, it’s okay. That’s how you find out what does, by trying all the tools you can.” she said, flipping to a new page. “But I’m going to give you a little project, and I want you to do your best to finish it. For me, okay?”  
  
“What kind of project?”  
  
“A self-improvement to do list.”  
  
On paper it didn’t sound too difficult, but it was like being asked to turn himself inside out.  
  
1\. Give yourself one compliment every morning.  
2\. Say something nice to a stranger at least once a day, if opportunity allows.  
3\. Do something nice for yourself, like have a hot chocolate or watch a show you like, at least three times a week.  
4\. Say please and thank you, you little shit!   
5\. Talk to your friends.  
6\. Keep making lists if they help you.  
  


“Talk to my friends about what?” he asked, locking the journal and putting it inside his hoodie and zipping it up. This one was dark green, and one David had gotten him.  
  
“That’s up to you. Just don’t forget to let them be there for you, Max.”  
  
“...I don’t think they would understand.”

“Maybe not, but they care about you and that’s what they’ll lead with. It doesn’t have to be today,” she tucked his hair behind his ear, the way she did more often now whenever he was upset. It was nice. “It can be, but it doesn’t have to be.”  
  
“What if I can’t change, though? What if I just keep being the same shitty person I’ve always been? These things aren’t me, Gwen. I’m a fighter, I want to be a fighter, I like that part of me.” He really did. There were few parts of his identity that he was proud of but that was one of them. A rebel and a survivor, who answered to no one but himself. The direct opposite from the meek obedient victim he was in his father’s house.  
  
“Don’t stop being yourself. That isn’t what you need. Try to be your best self, the one that makes you happiest.”  
  
He looked up at Gwen, as she smiled down at him proudly and rested her hand on his cheek. He stiffened up when she leaned down and kissed his forehead. He could remember his mother doing that some times, on good days, but usually in the form of some apology. It had always felt empty and meaningless, but from Gwen, it was warm and he felt the love she was trying to convey through it. It took everything not to tear up. He really, really just wanted to stay with her but she was right and he knew it. Nobody would let it happen. “I like that part of you, too, Max. Hey, guess what?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“CPS looked for some medical records on you for your foster parents, and Doctor Herrera helped out. They found your birth records in Portland. Want to know when your birthday is?”

  
“Is-- is that a thing now? Like, do my foster parents do birthdays?”  
  
“Sure do. I already scheduled off work and school to be there. Only for the cake, though.”  
  
He smiled a tiny bit, as she ruffled his hair. “Okay, okay, when is it?”  
  
“November eighteenth. You’re a Scorpio baby. Pretty cool coincidence, right?”  
  
“Horoscopes are bullshit,” Max rolled his eyes but he felt a little bit excited. That wasn’t that far away. And Gwen would be visiting that soon? He could make it until then. He climbed down off of her desk, and put his hands comfortably in his pockets. He was about to leave without saying goodbye, which was usual for him but he remembered the to-do list and turned back to her. “Thanks, Gwen.”  
  


Once he was outside of the cabin, his gaze settled on the treetops that surrounded the expanse of Sleepy Peak. And despite his fears of the future, he was glad he wouldn’t have to give up the view.  
  
  


* * *

  
  


It was probably the most awkward silence ever shared between the three of them.  
  
Max decided if he was going to be starting a new chapter in his life, he wanted to make a goddamn effort about it. He wanted to separate himself from the past, and that meant trying to do things differently. He was going to be strict about following Gwen’s advice.  
_  
__“Don’t stop being yourself. That isn’t what you need. Try to be your_ ** _best_** _self, the one that makes you happiest.”_  
  
He was going to try to make her proud of him by checking a big one off the list.  
  
Neil and Nikki sat on either side of him, on their usual bench near the lake. Nikki had been trying to show him how to skip a rock, at least until the conversation inevitably turned. They had known something was up with him for the last few weeks, in and out of the hospital, being distant and moodier than usual, and Neil admitted he knew Max kept leaving their tent at night. _“We’re worried about you, Max. I know you keep leaving the tent in the middle of the freaking night and I know you hate talking about that kind of stuff but maybe…”_ _  
_  
_“I get nightmares,”_ was what he blurted out in a panic and it opened the floodgates.  
  
They sat in horrified silence as he bit by bit told them how David and Gwen let him stay at their cabin when he had them. That it was the only thing that helped him feel safe anymore. He told them what the nightmares were about, in as much detail as he could handle before his chest felt tight and his eyes stung with those tears he knew would come. He hated that even now, so far away after so much had changed, that his father still affected him. That he had the power to make him the same pathetic, scared kid that never fought back.  
  
He told them how his mom locked him in his room and that was why his bear was so important, because when you’re alone for days on end you go a little crazy and you need to talk to something to take the edge off. He told them anything that came to mind, because it was like running down a steep hill. He had to just keep the pace so he didn’t fall and eventually it would be over and the momentum would be gone.  
  
“David and Gwen found out,” his voice was wavering and he closed his eyes, sucking in a breath through his teeth. _Don’t. Fucking. Cry_. “And they reported it. I’m-- I’m like...in the system now, I guess.”  
  
“But that’s good, right?” Neil asked nervously, as Nikki sat down next to Max. “The cops can arrest your parents.”  
  
“Nah, that’ll never happen. They won’t find them and my dad would be out of jail within hours.”  
  
“You can come live with me,” Nikki said, elbowing him gently. “My mom wouldn’t care. We could have bunk beds and you can help me finish my tree house. Just gotta started on the booby-traps.”  
  
That made Max smile. “Thanks, Nik, but I’m okay. They already found me a foster home; I get to stay in Sleepy Peak. But now I’ll actually have internet and stuff, so I’ll be able to talk to you guys.”  
  
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Neil made the _hold on_ gesture with his hands, “Are you saying that you wouldn’t have had it with your parents? Like, summer would end, you’d go home and--”  
  
“You’d never hear from me again? Yep.” Max wanted to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal, but it had been a gnawing fear for him for so long. They would think he had abandoned them or the worst had happened, and they wouldn't have been entirely wrong. But as he tried to push down the guilt, it just came up like a bad breakfast. “It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you guys! I trust you, I really do , it’s just that…”  
  
“Max, it’s okay. I would be pretty scared, too.” Nikki was just smiling at him reassuringly, not a hint of anger in her eyes whatsoever. Neil clapped him on the shoulder and added, “And that shit isn’t easy to talk about. No wonder you’re such an asshole.”  
  
His feelings weren’t hurt. No, it was actually kind of funny, Max would give him that and it did help to alleviate his anxiety but just to make sure Neil didn’t get ahead of himself, he turned and punched him square in the shoulder. Just like David taught him, tight fingers and the thumb on the outside. “Takes one to know one!”  
  
“Ow! Your knuckles are so pointy!”  
  
Neil rubbed his shoulder, smiling sheepishly as Nikki hugged Max’s arm just tight enough that he was trapped but not so tight he lost circulation. This time. Max didn’t mind it, he was pretty used to Nikki just being Nikki. “But seriously, you guys aren’t pissed?”  
  
“No! We just want to help. If we can, I mean...we’re here for you, Max.”  
  
“Yeah. Maybe I can help you catch up on school,” Neil offered.  
  
“Oh, shit, that’s right.” He didn’t really think about it until that moment. “I’m going to public school…”  
  
“Let me see that list,” Neil took his pen from his pocket and Max hesitantly handed it to him. “I’ll write down some books for you to read.”  
  
“Do you know any about constellations?”  
  


* * *

  
  
The next few weeks went by so fast.  
  
David tried to make them last, to live in the present as much as he could before he had to say goodbye to all the kids. Their parents would pick them up from the bus drop off, or at least most of them would, and some of them he would see again in a year and some he wouldn’t. He saw how some of them got a tiny bit taller or their hair grew or all the other little changes they went through over the three months of adventure he and Gwen pioneered them through.  
  


It was a feeling he was very familiar with. The mixture of pride and bittersweet sadness that was unique to late summer sunsets and the last of the fireflies before they were gone, before he gave up the bandanna and camp shirt until the next time.  
  
But it was different. He had a new sense of direction. He was going to be a teacher, helping kids learn to read music and organizing school sings and such. He had waited and hoped for years for a dream to become real and it was just weeks away. And maybe, he would see Max walking the halls of that school, making new friends and new shenanigans. They planned to make every Sunday their day. If they visited or called, it depended on that week but it was the deal David struck with him.  
  
He had realized it a few days ago, the inevitable truth of the matter and it was something small that did it, but wasn’t that normally the case?

Max had taken off his bracelet for an art activity, not wanting to get clay on it and when it was done, he had been struggling to get it clipped again with one hand. David didn’t know until he marched up to his counselor, held his hands up with an irritated expression and those big green eyes and demanded, “Help.” in a flat voice.  
  
The truth was that David couldn’t say goodbye to Max. He was an irreplaceable part of his life, and the idea of having to switch from seeing him and taking care of him every day to seeing him once a week was unbearable. They had gone through so much together, and he cared about that kid like…  
  
Well, like his own. And it was a terrifyingly overwhelming thought.  
  
David had studied child development and related subjects in college for his teaching degree, he had worked with kids for years and he loved it, but parenting was an entirely different matter. It made his hands shaky and his mouth dry and his heart beat fast to think about the daunting experience, the possibility of failing and no one would suffer for it more than Max.  
  
But then he thought about how he could soothe his nightmares, get him to eat all of his dinner and the way it felt to make that kid laugh for once. To know that because of the things David did for him and taught him, he was safer and happier for it.  
  
So he called his case worker, and they sat down to talk, and she laid out his options. After an adjustment period with his first foster family and if he could get things in order for it, he could foster Max for six months. If by the end he still wanted to continue caring for him, the household would be evaluated and he would have the opportunity to adopt him officially. Having a steady, upstanding job as a teacher helped and he had savings from over the years and an inheritance to fall back on, so finances weren’t a problem as long as he was smart and if he absolutely had to, Granda would help. But David seriously would do his best to avoid that kind of a shitshow, even if things were a little better between them. The case worker assured him he fit almost all of the requirements.  
  
But did he have a place for a child to _live?_ His little apartment wouldn’t cut it. 

It was Saturday. The campers did their own activities on the weekend unless it was a special occasion, and that gave David a chance to go into town if he wanted. As he turned the bend down the rural road, the gravel and dirt grinding quietly under the wheels and the light flickering through the tree branches above, he felt butterflies in his stomach. He hadn’t been here in so long.  
  
That week, David finally bit the bullet and started the process of moving out. Half of his things were in boxes, which weren’t much, and with two or three trips it would be done. He could feel his heart in his throat as he pulled up in front of the familiar two story farmhouse. Of course it was right where he left it, it wasn’t like it could go anywhere.  
  
The ivy covered brick on the west side of it and the tall chimney, the wrap-around porch with the now broken swing he used to sit on with his mother. For a moment, he could swear he saw her there. Red hair shining in the sunlight, rocking them back and forth as they ate peanut butter and honey sandwiches and listened to the radio while he talked to her about his day after school.  
  
“ _Mhac na galla_ ,” he muttered, putting his head down on the steering wheel. It hit him like an avalanche.  
  
It was an empty house. **Empty** . There was nothing here. It was beautiful and it was where he grew up, where his happiest and worst memories were, but he _hated_ it for it. It didn’t get to be beautiful. Not when his mother didn’t live there anymore.

  
But he had been ready for this. David sat back in the seat with a few slow breaths, until he finally turned off the car and got out. Every step up the creaking porch was a challenge and he shakily put the key in the lock. The sign on the door read **PRIVATE PROPERTY: TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED** in blaring red letters. He decided to leave it up while he worked, just in case. There had been instances over the years of kids throwing rocks at the windows or one or two break in attempts.  
  
Stepping through the front door was like stepping back in time. It opened into a small foyer and he stopped at the archway and ran his hand along the frame, feeling the carvings along it. His name was etched by each line by his mothers’ hand, from when he could sit up on his own until the very last time before she was gone, recording his height through the years.  
  
He smiled, but he could feel wear tears starting down his cheeks. It was clear as day. Giggling and bouncing as she laughed, “Hold still, _a bhobain!”_ before she flattened his hair down to get an accurate measure. The house was big, and there was only the two of them, but they made it feel full and cozy with just their joyful personalities. _It’s going to feel like that again. Different, but the same._  
  
The wallpaper needed to be torn down, and he would repaint everything. He would clean the floors and everything top to bottom, make sure the plumbing and electricity was still functioning and there was no mold, then get a fence and security system. It was months of work, but he was willing to do it for Max.  
  
This was what he wanted for him. Happy memories in a home of his own, a chance to have the childhood he deserved and David was going to work to help him find that. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his foster parents, they really were good people. An older couple whose own children were grown up and moved out, that had decided to do good by fostering.  
  
But he had made a promise, and if he got this place in order, it was just a matter of paperwork and he would be his foster parent. And if he didn’t get started on the work now, he would be late getting back to camp.  
  
For the first time in over ten years, David pulled the sheets off the windows and opened them to send out the ghosts and let in the light.


	16. Chapter 16

David was always there first, sitting at their designated booth, waiting politely to order until his godmother arrived. But this Sunday morning, the last before the campers left, he ended up oversleeping and came rushing in well into a half hour past their usual meeting time.  
  
  
He could see the service dog laying under the booth and the outline of her petite shoulders clad in flannel, and he did his best not to run across the linoleum, and dodged a waiter with a rushed, “Sorry!” before he plunked down clumsily into the creaky seat. “Sorry, sorry, I’m here, sorry.”  
  
  
“Say it one more time, I think I don't hear you the first three times.” she said, the lines around her eyes deepening as she smiled over her teacup at him. “You look like shit. Have you been howling at the moon?”  
  
  
  
David politely ordered a cup of tea as well, taking off his light windbreaker (it was drizzling outside) and turned back to her. Although they weren't related at all, people often mistook her for his real mother with her cinnamon red hair and similarly round eyes, although they were brown rather than hazel and she was much smaller in stature. His aunt Aster tore off a piece of ham on her plate and offered it to the massive animal underneath their table, who very gentle nommed it out of her palm while the force of her tail wags rattled the silverware. David craned his head under to smile at the Saint Bernard and pet her head as she shuffled around and rested her chin on his knee in greeting. "Hi, Winifred, I missed you too."  
  
  
“I don’t believe in werewolves anymore, Auntie.” David replied, and he got a raised eyebrow. Pushing down the inner thirteen year old who wanted to roll his eyes and sigh towards the ceiling.“I just didn’t get much sleep. I’ve had a lot on my mind."  
  
  
“Aye, the one that's coming to stay with us. Have you told him that yet?"  
  
  
If he was his aunt, he would have no problem driving to Portland already and kicked Sunil’s teeth in. But David was effectively **not** like his aunt and went a great deal out of his way to be so, not only because he didn't have the shield of the law to get away with something like that and he wouldn't put her past doing so. Stretching her privileges as an officer was risky business; he never doubted she was a good person who deserved her status as Chief but...sometimes she was capable of frightening things. “No. I don't want him to feel like he's imposing on me when he's already convinced that he is. Last night he was in the cabin again from those dang bad dreams, asking me over and over if I was sure his father didn't know where he was going to be living. Then he kept saying he was sorry for waking me up and I didn't think he'd ever go back to sleep...I don't know if I'm all that good at helping him."  
  
  
David sulked over his tea when it arrived and stirred in the milk and honey in silence.  
  
  
Aster leaned her chin in her hand thoughtfully as she looked at him with her piercing eyes that _never_ let him get away with a thing. "Well, what is it you do?”  
  
  
“Sometimes I walk him around the camp. I even took him for a drive once and that worked but I didn’t want to make a habit of it. I sing to him a lot, he almost always wants that. He likes _Chì Mi Na Mórbheanna..."_  
  
  
"Oh, I know that one." she lowered her hand. "Your mother loved to sing that to you."  
  
  
"And Granda too," he smiled as she spoke in unison with him, "But he can only sing one note!" and he shared a small laugh with her that helped him shake off the anxieties he had woken up with. "But mostly I just tuck him into bed and he conks out if I sit with or hold him. Doesn’t always work, but he’s more upset if I _don’t_ do it, so…”  
  
  
He trailed off as he felt his aunt _staring_ him down. _Blink. Do you ever blink? Please blink._ “He sleeps in your bed after bad dreams?”  
  
  
“Yeah…?”  
  
  
“You read him stories and sing him lullabies and shit?”  
  
  
“Language, Auntie.”  
  
  
“ _Hmph_. Don’t worry none, you’re doing fine. All a kid ever wants after a bad dream is to know they’re watched over by the right person, and he’s got that. Over time, he’ll learn how to cope. You did,” she gestured to him with her mug and David looked down doubtfully. True, the nightmares eventually receded and as he got older, it was easier to deal with them. But it didn’t make it any easier to watch Max undergo the process. “I just hate seeing him that way, though.”  
  
  
"I know, honey. That won't ever change." Aster sat back as the waiter stopped by and topped off their hot water, then spoke again when they walked away. “Tell me a little bit more about this kid I'm taking in.”  
  
  
It seemed harmless enough. David idly shook pepper over his eggs as he about where to start. “You’d get along, probably. Sharp tongues and all that, I think he could really give you a run for your money.”  
  
  
“Ha! I’d like to see him try.”  
  
  
_I don’t think the world is ready for that._ “He’s smarter and tougher than I am. Braver too, I think. And he really tries to hide it, but he’s a sweetheart. He just sees things for how they are, and he’ll certainly tell you. I’m...I’m really proud of him. Max is a great kid, he deserves a family that appreciates him. Anyone would be lucky to have him.”  
  
  
“...And you’re not that anyone? You’re old enough, you’ve got money and a job, why don’t you foster him?” Aster cut straight to the point, as always and he choked on the tea he was in the middle of swallowing. She handed him a napkin as he coughed and sputtered to get it out of his windpipe as the shock recovered.  
  
  
“Th--that’s a _mighty big step_ from a camp counselor, Auntie!” He felt exposed just how easily she always guessed what he was up to. He just didn’t expect her to just outright suggest it. In fact, he expected a lecture on how he was too young and had no experience and it was a terrible idea. He felt like this was a test, and he wasn’t going to divulge his intentions before he was certain Aster was _actually_ supportive. “What do I know about parenting?”  
  
  
“I’d say you’ve got two very good examples of what to do and what not to do called Mum and Dad. Besides, if that kid loves you and you love him and you’re gonna put what’s best for him first-- it’ll be hard to fuck it up.”  
  
  
David muttered behind his own cup, _“Take your own advice, why don’t you…?”  
__  
_  
“What was that?” she asked and he immediately was overtaken by the urge to sit up straighter.  
  
  
“Nothing. Look, Max is kind of in a delicate balance right now. Too many big changes will stress him out and he needs to know he's safe before anything else, so please, just...he-help him with that. I want him to feel safe. I think he doesn't even remember what it feels like..." he went quiet as she reached across the table and gripped his hand with her own. He carefully returned it, not wanting to bump the vacant spaces where two of her fingers were missing just in case she was feeling any pain that day. He hadn't asked. He should ask how she was doing, but it got stuck in his throat. "He will be safe with us, David." She reassured him gently. "And I know exactly how someone like him feels. I'll help him through it."  
  
  
"Thank you," he squeezed her hand tightly and she rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand to comfort him. "I'm sorry I haven't kept in touch lately, it's been an insane summer."  
  
  
"I know," she let his hand go and tweaked his nose to make him reel backwards, which she laughed at. "I read every report that comes through about it. I'd have gotten involved if I thought you needed me but you didn't. You're good at protecting those kids and Campbell is slowly--" Aster darkened her expression. "Very. Slowly. Making his way back into my good graces."

  
_You didn't know about everything, though. Past the first Daniel incident, we didn't let the authorities know...Maybe we should have. Maybe I did need you._ He dwelled on the past too much but he wished he'd gotten her involved sooner with everything. He needed her steadfast presence. He had so many memories entrenched in anger and grief where she cut through with her stone-pillar like support that even know he looked back on to try and navigate his life at present.  
  
  
  
Memories like his first **real** fight. It was foggy even now, like all the recollections that followed after David saw pure _red_ and a feral part of his mind took control of his actions and he didn't care about the consequences that came with them. He remembered some kid he ended up pitying after mouthing off, who had the _goddamn audacity_ to tell him to “ **Get over it** ,” when he had a mother and father to go home to. And then he remembered cartilage crunching under his knuckles, hellbent on turning that caving in that stupid smirking mouth so he couldn’t say another word to David ever again. He might have done it but someone called the police since it was a public spectacle.  
  
  
And like the idiotic fourteen year old he was, he sat in the police station as someone patched up his broken lip and checked him for cracked ribs, not knowing the police chief herself was talking down angry parents from pressing charges on his behalf. And when she had succeeded, she let him stew until night and then drove him home at the end of her shift, humiliatingly in the back of her police car like he was a criminal.  
  
  
Then she gave him some very sound advice. _“You want to know what your mother told me when she was fixing this up?”_ and she waved her left hand for him to see. Most people knew that Chief Teabloom was missing her thumb and pointer finger, but very few knew why. David still didn’t know, either. _“She said that the bravest thing I could ever do in my life is to_ ** _choose_ **_to be kind in a world full of insensitive, asinine bastards.”  
__  
__  
_ And he sank in the seat, wanting to hide his black eye and bruised face, knowing he knew his grandfather would tear him a whole new one when he got home. He muttered "I don't know what that means," which was a bold faced lie, but then she retorted with hitting the brakes and he got a much deserved dig in his sore ribs by his seat belt. While he clutched them and wheezed, she ripped into him with all the fury a tiny north English woman could muster. _“It means don’t be a little twat! Your mother, God rest her soul, didn’t raise a moron whose first thought is to start throwing punches when he's upset with someone!"  
__  
__  
__“He started it! He said--”  
__  
__  
__“I don’t give one bloody rat’s arse what_ ** _he_** _said or_ ** _he_** _did first! This isn’t about him, it’s about_ ** _you_ **_. Now he deserved one good smack, but you took it too far. You have to know when to stop, Davey. When it’s over, it’s **over**.”  
__  
__  
__“Where do you get off telling me how to live my life?! How the hell would you understand what it’s like to be me?”_ he spat at her. He hated being preached at back then. He never listened to the words, he only heard people talking down to him and that was all it took to raise his ire. Everyone wanted to talk, but no one wanted to listen to his side.  
_  
__  
__“Because my husband is resting two rows behind your sweet mother.”  
  
  
  
_It wasn't new information. She had raised him. He'd known she was widowed and remarried since he was a little kid but he had been so selfish that he decided only he could understand what it felt like to grief someone you loved. He said that to _her_ , the closest thing to a mother he had left, the woman he brought cookies up to when he was little because she locked herself in her room and cried all through the anniversary of losing her partner. He wasn't any better or kinder than the kid he'd just assaulted.  
_  
__  
_ And then he really felt like the asshole he was. It knocked sense into him better than any hand could and he was effectively silenced for the rest of the drive. She pulled over a block from his grandfather’s house as he broke down sobbing in the back seat, hating his anger, hating that stupid kid and hating what he had done to him. Hating _himself_ for being alive and squandering it on doing things that would break his mothers heart. She let him cry it out, gave him napkins for his tears from the colossal supply she had in the center console and walked him up the front porch with her hands on his shoulders. And when Granda yanked the door open and got ready for the lecture, she silenced him with one raised hand and the words, _“I already let him have it, Adaire. He's learned his lesson. Just put the poor boy to bed.”_ _  
_

_"Any charges?"_ his grandfather took him by the scruff of his neck and steered him inside.   
  
  
_"No, I got the parents to drop them."  
  
_  
_"You're a lucky little punk,_ " his grandfather gave him a shake and sent him upstairs to his room without another word, although after an hour of bawling into his pillow he heard a knock and found some milk and cookies sitting outside of his room to show he was still loved, for a punk.  
  
  
The following Saturday, she gave him her shortbread recipe and told him in no uncertain terms that he was going to get it right. He brought cookies to the boy he had nearly put in the hospital and they were friends through the rest of high school. 

  
David winced as he rubbed his temple, feeling a tension headache coming on. He needed rest, but he didn’t think he would sleep any better when Max was living somewhere else. He would just be up worrying. “Maybe helping out around the flower shop would be good for him and he’ll like the flowers.” He knew Max wanted to hide his interest in nature, but he saw him reading an botany book the other day.  
  
  
“You should get some flowers and visit your mom, Davey.”  
  


  
“You know I can’t stand graveyards.”  
  
  
  
“You should pay your respects somehow.”  
  
  
  
When Aster was right, he was right; David had gone too long without visiting her. “I am, in a way. I’m fixing up our house.”  
  
His aunt went dead silent. He knew it was probably a shock. He went from running away in the forest to stay in his mother’s old room to not setting foot in the place since he was eleven years old. It was boarded up and forgotten, until now. “It’s a house for a _family_. It’s not right to just let it sit empty and rot. And I know Granda and you don't want me to change anything about it, b-because it's everything Mom picked out but it’s a new beginning for--”  
  
  
“It’s alright, Davey.”  
  
  
She was so softly spoken and it was more jarring than when she yelled. “I’m proud of you. And I can't wait to see what you do with the place. It’s yours as much as hers. You let me know if you need help, got it?”  
  
  
“I...I need to put a fence up. It’s cheaper to buy the materials and do it on my own, but I don’t really _know_ how to build a fence.”  
  
  
  
“Do you know who could teach you how to do that the best?" She asked.  
  
  
"No...?"  
  
  
"Your grandfather. You should _call_ him."  
  
  
He had nothing to say to that or to that man, which she was well aware of. So they finished their food in silence.

* * *

  
  
  
“Pick a color.”  
  
  
“I thought you hated knitting--” Neil started and Max shushed him and more pointedly jabbed the box of multicolored strings at him. “Pick. A. Color. Asshole.”  
  
  
While Neil rolled his eyes and did so, he heard the loud snapping and huffing of Nikki climbing up the tree above them. “ _MAX! I’M ALMOST AT THE TOP!”  
__  
_  
“That’s great, Nikki,” he said idly, taking the one Neil picked and starting to separate out the necessary amounts of colored string. “Just be careful, it’d be pretty fucked up if you broke your neck on the last day of camp.”  
  
  
“Ha! It really would.”  
  
  
It was just the right combination of muscle memory and conscious effort to start weaving the threads together. He didn’t bother to correct Neil that this was _macrame_ , not knitting, and was completely different. Neil laid down on his stomach in the grass, opening his book up and starting to read out loud where they had left off. It was called _Dandelion Wine_ , and had been sent to him by his dad. They weren’t going to finish it by the end of the day, but it was one of many Neil had handed down to him to keep. It would stay with Max after they were gone.  
  
  
It was a story that was nostalgic and complicated, told in installments by the point of view of many different people but together it formed one constant theme; the indescribable essence of summer.  
  
  
He tightened the first bead into place. He had a supply of wooden ones all different sizes, and he had painstakingly etched two designs into each side of three of them. Each had a scratching of a pine tree, and this one had a moon on the other side. There was another with a star, and another with a sun.  
  
  
“ _'No matter how hard you try to be what you once were, you can only be what you are here and now. Time hypnotizes. When you're nine, you think you've always been nine years old and will always be. When you're thirty, it seems you've always been balanced there on that bright rim of middle life. And then when you turn seventy, you are always and forever seventy. You're in the present, you're trapped in a young now or an old now, but there is no other now to be seen.’_ “ Neil narrated smoothly. Max wondered how he read out loud so easily. When he tried, it was just a disaster.

 _  
_ He started on the next one. Max didn’t need to ask Nikki what color she wanted, he knew her favorite was red. Bright and energetic, just like her. She got the bead with the sun and when he was finished, he looked up. “Nikki! Get down here!”  
  
  
He didn’t know how he didn’t see her through the leaves until she was just there, dangling upside down hands-free like a monkey, pigtails trailing towards the ground. “Boop,” she said, poking them each in the nose. He clenched his jaw to avoid smiling as he stuck the bracelet in her face and she took it with a starry eyed smile, “Did you make this?!”  
  
  
“Yeah...?”  
  
  
“I love it!”  
  
  
Before he could really react, she let go of the branch with her legs and he panicked and tried to reach out to catch her but she just hit the ground in a ragdoll fashion, looking very pleased with herself. It must have hurt a little, but she just sat up clumsily with a grin and slid it onto her wrist. Neil stopped reading to look at her and said, “You’re like a cockroach. I bet if we hit you with some radiation, it would just tickle.”  
  
  
“Let’s try it!”  
  
  
“ **No** .” Max deadpanned, and threw the yellow bracelet at Neil. It bounced off his hair and he picked it up curiously. “I get one?”  
  
  
“You’re _welcome_.”  
  
  
“Where’s yours?” Nikki asked, and Max self consciously reached into his pocket to produce a blue version, this one with the star charm. “I, uh…”  
  
  
“Put it on!”  
  
  
“You don’t think it’s dumb? I don’t know how to make anything else, so--”  
  
  
“The point is that we all wear ours,” Neil insisted.  
  
  
With the two of them staring him down, Max finally slipped his own on, above the paracord. He kind of liked the idea of starting a collection. They laid down in the grass around him and after a moment, he laid down too, so they were all looking up into the same circle of tree tops. Cicadas distantly crooned their up-down songs, and he spotted a little bird on one of the higher branches. A white underbelly, ruby head and tilting its head to and fro as it trilled a song. Nikki pointed up at it and said, “That’s a chipping sparrow. _Chipchipchip!”_ She did her best imitation of its song, and Max couldn’t help but covered his face in second hand embarrassment, despite his smile.  
  
  
“So I googled your foster parents.” Neil said after a while, and took out his phone.  
  
  
Max’s stomach turned. “Why’d you do that?”  
  
  
“Maybe because I don’t want you to end up with some hillbillies who’ll put you in an oven, I don’t know.”  
  
  
“I think I’m too bony to be a pot pie yet. Candy first.”  
  
  
“Not a bad way to go,” Nikki agreed.  
  
  
“ _Anyway_ , they have a pretty present public reputation, or at least one of them does. Chief of Police, Aster Teabloom.”  
  
  
_Teabloom can’t be a real name_ , he thought. The wheels turned in Max’s brain and then clicked. Once they did, he felt his face burn red hot as he sat straight up with an enraged yell, “ _A fucking cop?!”  
__  
_  
“Whoa!” Nikki leaned over to look at Neil’s phone, “I want her to adopt me!”  
  
  
"She's not _adopting_ me, she's _fostering_ me." Max dared to steal a peek. It was quite an old picture, but it showed a young adult woman with her hair tied back in a neat bun at the base of her head, short in stature and holding a bow. An archery bow, straight up drawing an arrow on it. _Sleepy Peak Archery Squad tournament, first place._ That was the caption under it. “Let me see that,” he said quietly and Neil gave him the phone.  
  
  
He scrolled through the wikipedia page on her, skimming mostly the pictures. There were only so many pictures, since it was mostly a compilation of old news articles and reports, but in one picture she was being awarded a medal of valor in 1985. He read the article explaining it as quickly as he could, muttering it out loud to himself as he processed the information. “Holy shit. Sleepy Peak got taken over by a cult in the eighties!”  
  
  
“What, like...the same one Daniel was in?” Neil asked.  
  
  
“I have no idea, it doesn’t say. But how many cults do we know? She was the head of the task force that helped make the final arrests and rescue hostages.” Max handed Neil’s phone back to him and looked back up at the trees. As the sun began to grow low in the sky, the surface of the branches and the edges of the clouds were drenched in molten gold and fire. It was bright in a way that didn’t hurt his eyes, but felt impossible to look away from. He couldn’t help but wonder if there was a reason a police officer was fostering him. To protect him from his dad, maybe? _David grew up here, maybe he knows more_.  
  
  
He took out his phone and scrolled through one of his playlists and put on some quiet music before he set it aside in the grass. Not that he would tell David, but he had started making an effort to find bands and songs he liked. Gwen encouraged him to do ‘mindful’ things to help his anxiety, and one of them was actively listening to music.  
  
  
_“Four strong winds that blow lonely,_ _  
__Seven seas that run high._ _  
__All these things that won’t change,_ _  
__Come what may._ _  
__But our good times are all gone…”  
__  
_  
“And I’m bound for movin’ on,” he sang quietly under his breath, closing his eyes and just focusing on the weight of the sun on his face. They had spent all this time planning one final adventure. They wanted to go spelunking in the mines and caves, or to make one last trip to Spooky Island, or even pull a few pranks. But in the end, this was what they settled on.  
  
  
They decided to just be with each other, in the peaceful forest within the safe distance from camp, where their counselors could holler for them to come back when it was time.  
  
  
He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, the way he usually did when he napped, and did his best not to scratch his nose or react as Nikki kept picking grass blades and sprinkling them on his face and Neil kept reading, for as long as he was able until they heard Gwen calling their names.  
  
  
Max didn’t want to get up. And he didn’t want to open his eyes, because he was afraid that if he did, he wouldn’t be able to keep it together. The bus was here. Their bags were packed, and he wasn’t getting on it with them. Nikki shook him by the shoulder, and he stayed as he was. “Max, come on, I know you’re not sleeping.” she said and pinched his nose gently. “Maaaax, Max Max Max…” she inhaled deeply, " _Maxmaxmax!_ "  
  
  
With a heavy sigh, he sat up and ruffled the grass out of his hair as his eyes adjusted to the light again. “I’m up,” he said dejectedly, twisting his new bracelet around his wrist. Neil marked the page and handed him the book with a concerned face, “Come on, dude. We’ll see each other before next summer. You’ll be here next summer, right?”  
  
  
“David said he was going to work it out, so…”  
  
  
“And my mom said we can visit each other for Christmas!”

  
Max was going to miss her crazy bubbliness and Neil’s practicality that was only matched by his neuroticism. They made his life more than bearable, they made it worth waking up each day. They didn’t know how much they meant to him. He didn’t even know how to tell them that they had saved his life and that was absolutely no exaggeration. He loved them, and in a different way than he thought he loved his mom or his bear or strawberry ice cream. He loved them the way that he now understood, for the very first time in his life, someone loved family. Unconditionally and freely. “You assholes better not forget about me,” he said, trying to sound aggressive but his voice was trembling. “I fucking mean it. Because I’m going to miss you so much and if you forget about me, it’s going to make me look like a real moron.”  
  
  
After plenty of reassurances and Nikki dragging him up by the hand, he finally dragged his feet to camp where everyone was lining up for the bus and getting on, as Gwen took role call. But Max wasn’t going.  
  
  
He bit the inside of his cheek to keep a straight face as Nikki squeezed him in a trademark strait jacket hug and for once, he actually hugged her back. Although awkwardly; she was lifting him off the ground. And because Neil was taller, he just got outright tackled. Max respected Nikki’s strategy selection.  
  
  
The last he saw of them was them in the very back of the bus, waving at him and pointing to their bracelets. He timidly raised his own and pointed to it as well, watching until the bus turned the corner into the trees and they were gone.  
  
  
He stood there for a long time, unsure what to do with himself until he felt a hand on his back and he looked up into David’s face. “Come on, kiddo. We can wait for Gwen together.” he said with a gentle smile and offered Max his hand. Max stared at it, surprised that the instinct to smack it away was quiet. He was so _tired_ of being on guard and trying to be more grown up just for survival. He did want to be a kid, just like Gwen said he could be.  
  
  
So, he took David’s hand and it felt _normal_ as he followed him to the fire pit, while the sun traded places in the sky with the stars above them.


	17. Chapter 17

“Call me so I know you didn’t crash and die?”  
  
  
“You’ll be asleep by the time I’m home, gummy bear.” Gwen said, holding him by his cheeks and squishing them gently in a lame attempt to get him to cheer up. Max avoided her eyes but held obediently still as she teased him. _When did Satan get switched out for ‘gummy bear’?_ “Refusing to hug me goodbye isn’t going to stop me from going. It’s just going to make this more depressing.”  
  
  
Max groaned loudly and growled, _“Fine!”_ and let her wrap her arms around him for the last time in a while. Her hand smoothed his hair down, only for each lock it passed over to spring up and stick out in whatever random direction they pleased. Then he felt her kiss the crown of his head, lingering in place for a long time until he hugged her back. He would regret it if he didn't, anyway. “I’ve been writing in the journal. Every night,” he said as they let go. “You have to bring me another one when I run out of pages, because I’m going to finish the whole thing. I mean it.”  
  
  
“You bet,” she said as she stood up and turned to David, who had been awfully quiet. Max knew he was trying his best not to look sad, and he actually felt bad for him. He knew exactly how much it sucked to say goodbye to friends.  
  
  
“See you in November?” he asked, reaching out to shake her hand. _Fucking idiot.  
_  
  
Gwen slapped his hand away and hugged him, burying her face against his shoulder. David was stunned for a second, before he just embraced her back. They swayed slightly back and forth, Gwen’s quiet, “See you in November.” confirmation cut off by the announcement for her flight to Sacramento.  
  
  
They let each other go with a painfully obvious reluctance. They couldn’t see her off at the boarding gate, but they did watch her plane take off through some big windows. He watched through blurry eyes as it ascended and then look up at David, who was still watching with a kicked puppy expression. He blinked his own bittersweetness away and reached up to yank on his sleeve, “Hey. I want a hot chocolate.”  
  


* * *

  
  
  
David triple checked that both his and Max’s things were fully packed, and made his final round about the camp to ensure all the facilities were shut off, everything was locked and he hadn’t forgotten anything else before putting the place to rest for the summer. While he did, Max was supposedly also getting ready for bed.  
  
  
He carefully folded the flag and stored it in the utility shed, and by that time it was nearly dark. Already the days were becoming shorter, with the shift of the season. In three weeks, he started his new job as a teacher, which still put butterflies in his stomach whenever he thought about it. He kept worrying if the kids would like him or if he would get along with his coworkers, all kinds of silly worries that persistently cycled through his head. He wished he had Gwen to talk to about it, but she was likely just getting off the plane, if it had even landed yet.  
  
  
But the biggest change to come was that in the coming day. Max was going to meet his foster moms.  
  
  
Now that David has spoken with them recently, he felt so much more at ease with leaving Max with them. There was no one else he truly trusted with the kid, no one else he was sure could handle Max's unique needs and quirks, who wouldn't be scared off by all of the Max-ness and would adore him. Growing up with Aster hadn't been all lectures and tough times; she had a gentle side to her wrathful one that didn't fill the hole left by his parents but it made it bearable. After all, it was her who encouraged him to love nature. She took him on his first ever hike, camping trip, fishing trip...She became a more pronounced part of his life the more his mom deteriorated.

  
  
Sometimes David asked his mom things like did he look like his father or did he like music like they did, arbitrary curiosities he felt he just needed to know. His mother would do her best to answer, but then she would get a misty sparkle in her eyes the way she did when she was trying not to cry and he would stop. Over time, he just didn’t ask anymore.

  
  
But Aster would answer his questions, in her own unique way. Once they were sat around the firepit outside of his grandfather's cabin as she cooked beans and sausages over the fire for them to snack on in the tent and he asked a very vague question. Was he a good person?  
  


_“I don't know about a good person, pup...But he was good friend and a survivor,” she said, pointing at him over the flames of a campfire, as the kettle began to whistle on the spit. “And he knew when he was out of his depth.”  
__  
__  
__“Survivor of what?” David had asked.  
__  
__  
__“That’s story for another night. Pour the tea, would you?”  
__  
__  
_ He finished clearing the ashes from the firepit in the middle of camp and headed back to the cabin, just as Max was coming out of the bathroom in the second set of pajamas Gwen had bought him, dark blue with little polar bears all over. _Aww._ “Hey, David,” he said, starting to climb into bed but David noticed something and stopped him by the shoulder.  
  
  
“What?” Max demanded, wiping a drop of water off his cheek with all the attitude he could cram in a single gesture.  
  
  
“You can’t go to bed with wet hair, you’ll get sick.”  
  
  
“That’s a myth, like how rain gives you a cold.” the boy rolled his eyes and pulled back the covers to climb in.  
  
  
“It is _not_ , that’s how kids get ear infections and one of your foster moms went to medical school, so you aren’t going to get away with it in her house either.” David said firmly, plucking Max up by under his arms, despite how the boy immediately kicked and yelled indignantly. It was almost exactly like picking up a _vocal_ cat.  
  
  
He plunked him down in Gwen’s old chair and grabbed a towel, returning just in time to push him back down by the shoulder. At that point, David naturally knew the right balance of tough love for Max. “Stay put.”  
  
  
“Whatever, camp man.”  
  
  
But Max did sit still as he gently toweled off his thick dark locks for him, gently so the curls didn’t snag and hurt him. After a little while, he dared to pick up a comb and try to get out some of the worst of them. He stopped just short of running the teeth through it, suddenly struck with the parallel. If he rewound sixteen years, switched to Max’s place and his mother to his, it was like a spot the difference picture. He didn’t know what to do with that realization, so he just took a silent deep breath and calmly began detangling the squirrel’s nest in front of him. Since Max was calmly letting him, he got the notion he was too preoccupied to put up a fight. “Brush your teeth?” he asked.

  
  
“Yup,” Max said quietly.

  
  
“Good. Excited to meet your foster moms? I vetted them, they're good people. I trust them to take great care of you.”

  
  
“One of them is the chief of police, right?”

  
  
“Yes, actually...How did you know that?”  
  
  
“Neil googled her name.” Max shrugged, and pulled his feet up onto the chair to get more comfortable. “We found all this news stuff about how Sleepy Peak got taken over by some doomsday cult in the eighties, and she was some kind of like...nationally ranked archer and she helped save the town. She organized a task force or some shit. Why didn’t you tell me all that?”  
  
  
_Google, of course. How else_. “I don’t actually know very much about what happened in ‘84, Max, I wasn’t even _born_ yet. I just know Aster because she went to school with my parents and it's a tiny town. We're technically classified as a village, it's so small and we're a pretty tight knit community. We all shop at the same store, walk our dogs at the same park and go to the same Church. Heck, she was at my Baptism and probably ever other kid that year. Everyone knows each other." _Not technically a lie._  
  
  
“I didn't know you were religious..."  
  
  
“In my own way.” he could tell Max was uncomfortable. Religion, churches, priests, it all had to be a touchy subject with him. “My family is Catholic, so I grew up with it."  
  
  
“Do you still go to church?”  
  
  
“No,” David paused. “Don’t tell my grandfather. I mean, he knows, but don’t give him a chance to lecture me about it.”  
  
  
“Do you _believe_ in all that stuff? God and heaven and hell. All that shit about sin."  
  
  
He didn’t expect to have this conversation for a long time, but Max was definitely old enough to question it. And David worried about what his impression of religion was because of his father. Nothing to put a person off the concept of faith than a priest that was screwed up in the head. “Honestly, Max, I’m a little turned around on it. I think there's such a thing as good and evil and making up for things you've done that are bad," he ruffled Max's hair gently. "And I hope people I knew that are gone are watching over me...I believe in the soul, if I can say that without you making fun of me."  
  
  
"I won't!" He sounded offended at the idea that he would and David smiled.   
  
  
"Well, thank you. That makes me feel a lot less self conscious."  
  
  
"Yeah, yeah, whatever...So what about God?"  
  
  
"What about him?"  
  
  
"Do you think he exists?"  
  
  
David had to ponder that one. He was just running the comb through random sections now but if Max had caught on that he didn't need any further grooming, he wasn't protesting. "I think there is a higher power. But I don't know if it's what most people say it is."  
  
  
“Higher powers like what? Xemug?”  
  
  
David laughed a little, “Maybe? Gosh, I hope not. All I mean is that the world is more unexplained than it is explained.”  
  
  
“That's such a backwards-ass answer."  
  


David set the comb aside finally, "Sorry I don't have something more substantial. Do you have any more questions about your foster moms?”  
  
  
“What’s she actually like?"  
  
  
“She can seem intimidating but she has a big heart that she shares with everyone. She’s the kind of person that leaves every person and every place better than she found it. And she knows what it’s like to lose people and to have a hard life. I know they're going to love you.” he said, giving Max’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “Let’s just say you’re both free spirits.”  
  
  
“Love me…?” He heard Max echo it, in the softest voice that he decided to pretend he didn’t hear. “What about her wife?”  
  
  
“Victoria? She’s nice, too. Artistic and lively, and runs the flower shop in town. I think she's friends with everyone but there's been this rumor since I was little that she's actually a witch and she makes potions out of those flowers on Halloween."  
  
  
"Bullshit."  
  
  
"Yeah, it was just home made apple cider with apple blossom bouquets she handed out to all the kids to keep them warm. But who knows? Maybe she's a witch after all."  
  
  
“Shut up, so how did Aster stop the cult? Was it the same one Daniel's from?"  
  
  
  
“How about,” David said, as he lifted Max off the chair and set him on the ground, then steered him towards Gwen’s old bed. _That is plenty about that_. “You ask her yourself tomorrow?”  
  
  
“Goddammit, fine.” Max grumbled, as he climbed up and let David tuck the covers over him and his teddy bear. “Warm enough?” David asked, “I can turn the space heater on if you need it.”  
  
  
Max sank deeper under the blanket, up to his chin like he wanted to just hide away and David felt sad for him. He remembered that feeling, knowing he would have to sleep in a place he didn’t feel at home for a long time to come. “I’m alright.”

  
“They really are good people, Max. They won’t hurt you.”  
  
  
Max said nothing. David watched him turn his back on him and curl up around Mr. Honeynuts, silent. He knew that it was the truth, but he couldn’t do anything to make Max believe it. He could only let him find out for himself. “Four days,” he said, gently rubbing Max’s arm. “Then I’ll see you and we’ll catch up on everything.”  
  
  
“I can survive four days without you, David.”  
  
  
The words were sharp but the voice wasn’t. He could tell Max was scared he David knew it was better to let Max deflect sometimes. “I know you can. Sweet dreams.”  
  
  
He turned out the light and stayed up reading by flashlight until he was sure Max was asleep, and then he finally closed his own eyes.

* * *

  
  
Max waited until the very last moment to put his bear away into his backpack, as they pulled up in front of a Tudor style house, not very big but it the whole yard lacked any plain grass; it was all garden, full of various statues and plants and even a few small trees, and a little wood picket fence with a gate. He didn’t know Sleepy Peak well at all, but he knew the main street, and guessed they were a ten minute walk away from it. David had pointed out Victoria’s shop on the way, which was right across the street from the pancake house.  
  
  
“You can hold Mr. Honeynuts if you want to, Max, they won’t make fun of you. I lugged around a stuffed wolf until your age.”  
  
  
“I’m not going to do that...What’d you name it?”  
  
  
“Trusty.”  
  
  
He reluctantly took off his seat belt as David parked in the driveway and went around to get his duffel bag for him. Max felt glued to his seat until David opened the car door, and he heard the chitter of birds going to town on one of the many feeders hanging from one of the trees. “It’s time, kiddo.”  
  
  
“No,” he didn’t even voluntarily say it. It was just pure instinct, as he slouched in his seat and turned away. This place was beautiful and looked so cozy and welcoming, like a fairy tale house, and everything in him screamed it as a trap. His house in Portland had been nice too, so he was walking right into another one where nothing was going to be better because the only people in the world who ever made him feel like it could be okay _wouldn't. be. there._ He couldn’t do this. “No, no, no, I’m not ready. I want to go back to camp, David--”  
_  
_  
“You can't live at Camp Campbell, Max. I'm right here, you're not doing this by yourself."  
  
  
He curled up tightly on the seat, until he heard David slide into the space next to him. He didn’t want someone else to tuck him into bed, he didn’t want anyone else to sternly draw out his name when he mouthed off and he didn’t want to look out a different window or wait four days to see the one person in the world who always cared. Who was always there, any moment of the day that Max needed him. “I don’t want you to leave me here,” Max confessed the moment his now _former_ counselor leaned over and hugged him. “David, please don’t leave…”  
  
  
“I’ll see you Sunday,” his voice was so light, without a trace of fear or sadness. “And between then, you can text and call me all the time.”  
  
  
“They don’t fucking know me, David! And I don’t know them either, I can’t live with _strangers.”  
__  
__  
_ “Strangers are just people who aren't your friends yet...wait, no. Stranger danger. You get what I mean, Max, can you look at me? Please?”  
  
  
He didn’t want to. If he did, David would get through to him somehow and he would stop fighting this futile fight to prevent this all from happening when it was well on its way whether he liked it or not...it was well on its way.  
  
  
As slowly as possible, he looked up into David’s eyes with their ever present twinkle of kindness. “I’m going to say some really cheesy stuff, are you ready?”  
  
  
“Aw, **fuck**.”  
  
  
David smiled and rubbed his back gently with a calming effect. “Max, you are my whole world and I would never, _ever_ leave you here if I thought for a second you wouldn’t be safe or couldn’t be happy. And you can bet I’m going to call you, because I’m going to miss you every _minute_ I’m away.”  
  
  
Max couldn’t help it. He wiggled around so he could hug David back, but it was more like a death grip to try and stop him from getting out of the car. “How the fuck are you going to protect me if you’re gone?” he demanded, trying to find some hole in this plan.  
  
  
“There’s a reason the chief of police is your foster mom, Max. Next question?”  
  
  
“...Every Sunday? You’re going to come back?”  
  
  
“I’ll come back.”  
  
  
Max slowly relaxed his grip. He didn’t want to get out of the car any more than he did five minutes ago, but he would do it. He had to. He promised Gwen and David wanted him to do it, and Max wanted to be brave. So, he followed David up the cobblestone walkway, but he gripped his hand for dear life the entire time. His heart did happy somersaults when the door opened and he heard a **boof!** and saw the biggest puppy he had ever seen on the planet bounding down the steps. _Oh my god, oh my GOD! There’s a dog?! Why didn’t anyone say they had a dog?!  
__  
_  
She was white and brown, and absolutely massive, with floppy ears and a droopy, sweet face. The dog stopped on the porch and just repeatedly hopped up and down on her front paws, bellowing her deep yet muted bark as David waved at her, “Hi, mama dog. Brought you a puppy!”  
  
  
Max snapped out of his joyous stupor to smack David on the arm. "Shut the _fuck_ up, David!”  
  
  
He heard a voice giggle and looked behind the dog to see two figures. One was a tall black woman with long corkscrew curls of natural hair that fluffed out around her head in a graying ebony halo. She had dangly feather earrings, enough bead necklaces and bracelets to start a second shop and she wore long, flowy layers with various colorful patterns including a tie-dyed skirt that trailed all the way down to her ankles to stop above some sandals and very bright pink painted toenails. She looked like an art teacher caricature of the 70's. “Ohhh, look how adorable he is!” she exclaimed, as David all but dragged Max up to her. “You _have_ to be Max. You just have the most precious baby cheeks, let me see you, come here!”  
  
  
“This is why kids think we’re witches, Vicky.” The other woman stopped her by taking her hand.  
  
  
_That’s gotta be Aster._ _  
_  
  
She looked like the kind of woman who would live in a little cottage in a small town married to someone who sold flowers and wore crystals. She wore a beat up brown leather jacket, an autumn orange shirt, worn jeans and hiking boots that were scuffed to hell. Even though she was casual, Max could see her shoulder had a holster strap and when she reached for her wife’s hand, he saw the holster itself with a firearm resting on it, as well as a badge on her belt. He hadn't expected her to have an accent either, though it was hard for him to place. English, maybe, but there was a rounded depth to it that suggested Scottish too.  
  
  
As he tried to pinpoint it, his eyes focused on her left hand and the two _missing_ fingers.   
  
  
“Um, Max is a little shy. Can we go inside and then say hello?” David intervened. _Thank fucking God.  
__  
__  
_ “Aye, sure we can. Come, Winifred.” Aster waved the dog along, who obeyed despite obviously wanting to greet the new people. Max dug his heels in but David just lifted him right over the porch step and he was inside the house before he knew it.  
  
  
It smelled of dragonblood incense, hickory wood and black tea, so cozy and herbal and trying its best to put him at ease when he wasn't going to let it, no. He watched the two women suspiciously as they were lead through the house and to the living room. He looked around subtly at the walls and spotted a graduation picture of a few people in gowns, posing with their diplomas in their caps. Aster was there sporting a degree proudly in her intact hands (it did not escape Max's attention that all ten fingers were accounted for) next to another woman her age with an impossibly long pony tail of deep red hair and hazel eyes. Her cheeks were freckled, her features sunny and friendly and her smile was so familiar...Then he remembered that Aster went to school with David's parents.  
  
  
“Is that your mom?” He asked David, and cringed at how loud his voice sounded.  
  
  
David followed his gaze, and Max felt a little guilty. Few things were more depressing than David badly faking a smile. “Sure is, kiddo.”  
  
  
“She...she was really pretty.” Max just wanted to say anything nice, though he did mean it. He felt oddly sad he couldn't meet her when she looked so nice.  
  
  
  
He sat down on the couch close to David as Victoria brought in strawberry vanilla wafer cookies and tea and Aster plunked down in her own chair. Winifred, the dog, was sitting at the base of the couch watching Max with her happy dog eyes. He sat in utter silence as David and his new foster parents chatted idly. He only participated in the conversation when David prompted him or he was asked something, and even then he could only summon a head shake, nod or shrug.  
  
  
“Would you like to see your room, Max?” Victoria asked him after a while.  
  
  
He reluctantly left his space on the couch without an answer, keeping a grip on David’s hand once more as he followed her through the house. And to his surprise, they began to ascend a creaky staircase. His room was on the top floor?  
  
  
  
At the end of the hallway, facing the back of the house, Victoria opened a door that lead into a decently sized room, with two windows that had sheer white curtains. There was a cozy looking bed with a red down quilt, a wooden dresser and some bookshelves and a chest at the end of the bed, even a desk. There weren’t really any decorations, but there were books on the shelves and plenty of pillows on the bed, and the wallpaper was patterned with sunflowers. It had character, and it looked lived in. Not barren and hostile like the room he grew up in.  
  
  
  
“You can put up posters and knick knacks,” Victoria said. “You can do whatever you like, Max, it’s all yours for as long as you’re here.”  
  
  
  
Max silently walked towards the window and moved the curtain, flinching at the light that came through it. Just to see, he tried to open it and his heart jumped when it gave. It wasn’t locked or painted shut. The fresh air came through instantly. He couldn’t stop breathing it, couldn’t stop looking out it. This wasn't a prison; he wasn't being sealed away in here out of sight and out of mind.  
  
  
  
“Can you give us a minute, please?”  
  
  
  
David’s voice was muffled but he heard the door open and shut. Max flinched out of his trance when David took him by the shoulders and slowly turned him around. Every time Max blinked, he saw the concrete walls and floor, the flickering naked light bulb above, the uncovered mattress. There used to be better conditions, but his father stripped them away over the last few years to try and stem Max's rebelliousness. He truly didn't know if it would have succeeded if it went on much longer.  
  
  
  
He knew David was talking to him but he heard only the sound, not the words. Not until David touched his cheek and rubbed his thumb over it and he finally looked up at him and David smiled in relief. “Hi, little bear.”  
  
  
  
He tried to talk but it was like he had clay stuck in his throat, so he gestured vaguely to the window. He didn’t even know himself why he was so upset. And David clearly did not understand whatever he was trying to say, although he didn't become frustrated with Max. “Are you okay if I leave for a minute? Just a minute,” David said. “I’ll be right back.”  
  
  
  
Max nodded stiffly, but he hated every step David took that got quieter and quieter. It felt like an eternity until he got back with his luggage and set them down and started opening it up. Most of his possessions were brand new, recently purchased on David's dollar and Max felt guilty for it despite having stolen his credit card so many times. He watched David, confused, until the man waved him over and handed him the quilt. “You know where this goes, don’t you?”  
  
  
  
David kept handing him his things, and bit by bit, Max placed them where he wanted them to be. Quilt and bear on the bed, clothes in the dresser, shoes by the door, his half of the spirit stick on the book shelf and so on. Then, he helped David move the bed so it was against the window wall. It took about an hour to do and when they were done, they sat by the window together to observe their efforts on the whole. Max felt a little better, but he knew what came next.  
  
  
  
He heard David take a breath to speak and Max cut him off, “Don’t.” _No more goodbyes. I’m at the fucking limit_.  
  
  
  
He slouched forward with his face in his hands, watching out of the corner of his eye as David picked up his teddy bear. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, as David proceeded to give it a snuggly hug, before handing it back. “A hug from me to you,” he said cheerfully. “Just in case you need one when I’m away.”  
  
  
  
“Oh my god, that’s so stupid. You’re such a fucking dork, I hate you.” Max half laughed, half sobbed it because every word was the opposite of what he really believed.  
  
  
  
Then the time came. He didn’t budge from his spot as David got up and left, and he didn’t budge when Aster came knocking and asked through the door if he needed anything. When he didn’t answer, she peeked in and asked if he just wanted to be alone, to which he nodded. Victoria brought his dinner up to him later on and he was surprised he was allowed to eat in his room and the food was actually _good_. Who knew he liked sweet potatoes? She'd dressed them up with butter, salt, cinnamon and brown sugar. Heaven on a plate.  
  
  
  
That night, he had to put himself to bed, which was fine because that was what he wanted. Victoria did check on him and tell him they were right down the hall if he needed anything at all, and gave him an extra blanket just in case.  
  
  
  
Max plugged in the white noise machine David had gotten him, putting on wind and forest settings along with the crackling campfire sound. He liked that he could layer them over each other. He made sure to dry his hair properly after his shower, laid out his clothes for the next day and wrote in his journal before getting into his new bed. It was warm and comfortable, and he laid on his side to look out the window at the dark silhouettes of the trees in the distance.  
  
  
  
_Four days._ _Just four days. I can do that._  
  
He fell asleep at long last, squeezing his teddy bear tight in his arms.


End file.
